


A Hundred Golden Suns

by aeoleus



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: A part of the, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Child Abuse, Gen, Hakoda (Avatar) is a Good Parent, Hakoda adopts zuko, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Pre-Canon, Zuko Embroiders Cinematic Universe (ZECU), Zuko is raised in the Southern Water Tribe, ozai kills zuko and agni says try me again motherfucker, thats it thats the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 96,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26818906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeoleus/pseuds/aeoleus
Summary: Zuko does not survive that first fateful Agni Kai.But no matter how much Ozai strives to pretend otherwise, the Old Gods are not dead.And the Old Gods are angry.[REPOSTED- ACCIDENTALLY ORPHANED]
Relationships: Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 626
Kudos: 2463
Collections: Atla fanfics worth reading, Avidreaders ATLA completed faves, Finished111, My Favorite Atla Fics, RaeLynn's Epic Rec List, The Best of Zuko





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Hundred Golden Suns](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25362175) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! You have noticed by now, I accidentally orphaned all my works. I'm re-uploading 100 golden suns in its entirety, and all my other works are linked to my profile. This DEEPLY sucks, and I don't have a lot of faith that I'll be able to restore my works. I do ask that if you know anyone who was subscribed to this to just let them know what happened, and subscribe to me, instead of the work, so that you get notifications if i'm able to reupload my works. 
> 
> _________________________________________________________________________________________________________
> 
> hi!! this idea jumped into my brain and wouldn't let go so i'm trying something new!
> 
> A few notes on this canon divergence (Will add more as becomes relevant):  
> the Agni Kai takes place when Zuko is twelve instead of thirteen. Every other event is still on the canon timeline.
> 
> CW for this chapter: canon-usual violence, graphic depictions of the Agni Kai and Zuko's subsequent wounds.

* * *

On an island, on the very top of the oldest volcano, one-hundred years past the time of Sozin, a child stood up for his countrymen. 

He was right to, you see- the old man shocked by his insolence should have been more shocked at his own ability to throw away lives like so many burnt-up embers- but he paid the price all the same, when the same old man demanded he fight for his honor. 

And when the child stood up to defend his actions, bathed in Agni’s light and allowing his prayer shawl to slip from his slight shoulders unimpeded, he found not the old man, but his father, who had intended to give up his countrymen as piglet-lambs for the slaughter, a sacrificial offering the spirits never asked for, and did not want. 

“Stand,” his father said. “Stand, and fight.” 

And the child did not hold himself in the regard that he held his countrymen. 

And the child fell to his knees and begged mercy. 

And the child, still swathed in the gold light he had been granted at birth, received no such succor. 

  
“Please, Father, I am your loyal son-” 

“You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher.” 

And the child burned. 

* * *

“Zuko, Zuko, can you hear me-” Iroh leans over and- _spirits, he has never seen a burn this bad, not in decades of campaigns-_

The air smells of cooked flesh. 

Zuko’s face is charred black. 

The child moans, tries weakly to move away from the physician who is preparing a basin of water. Iroh bites his lip till he tastes blood, holds his nephew in place, and feels his broken heart wrench into dust when the child screams. 

“Opium.” Dr. Aito grunts. A nurse forces Zuko’s mouth open and drips a liquid down the back of his throat- _one, two, three, four-_

By the time she gets to ten, Zuko is unconscious. 

Iroh has only ever seen ten drops used on soldiers to ease pain that could not be fixed. 

On soldiers who did not make it off the field. 

“Doctor-” Iroh lets out, strangled. Aito shakes his head, grim, and finishes applying the thick balm to Zuko’s face. 

“We need to move him, _now.”_

* * *

Zuko startles awake from the cold, dark ceremonial tiles and stares straight up into a golden-yellow sky. 

“Hello, child.” A woman says. 

Zuko scrambles up. A woman with flowing white robes and light hair like golden thread and unlike anything Zuko has ever seen before, sits at the bank of a river, and look at him with steady, copper eyes.

Copper eyes that look so familiar, so familiar it _hurts-_

“Mom?” He chokes out and falls back on his knees. Is he- is he dead? Is this the spirit world? 

The woman smiles softly and tucks her light hair behind her ear. “You are my child, yes, but I am not your mother.” 

“I- I don’t-” 

“I simply take the shape of that which you love most.” She says. “Come and sit by me.” 

Zuko does. He sits by the water and stares at his reflection in the clear blue water. Half of his face looks as it always does- the same as Father’s, with pale, blemish-less skin, dark hair. The other half-

“You are injured, my child.” The woman says, her voice tight with pain. “And thus, so am I.” 

She turns, and Zuko sees that her cheek drips red and burnt black. He stands back up, throat closing in a familiar panic. His left eye is beginning to burn hot. 

“What happened to me?” He whispers. “Where am I? Who are you?” 

  
“You were burned.” She says simply, allowing the blood to drip from her cheek unimpeded into the clear water. “Where you are does not matter.” 

The woman stares directly at him and the gold of her eyes burn too bright. 

“And you have known me your entire life.” 

* * *

  
  


On Iroh's second sleepless night in the infirmary, Zuko wakes. 

“Lu Ten?” he mumbles, garbled, staring at Iroh from under one half-lidded eye. “Lu Ten-” 

“No, Zuko, it’s me,” Iroh murmurs, gently sweeping back what remains of his dark hair. “You’re going to be alright.” 

“Lu Ten’s here.” Zuko insists, voice thick. 

Iroh swallows, swipes roughly at the tears that seem ever present in his eyes before they can get anywhere near Zuko’s bandages. 

“Well, tell him I miss him very much, and that I love him.” Iroh says. 

Zuko’s hazy eye focuses on Iroh for just a second. 

“He misses you too. He says- he says he’s sorry.” 

And with that, Zuko collapses back into the bed. Iroh hovers a hand over his forehead and knows deep in his bones that the heat radiating off of him is not simply Zuko’s inner flame burning bright. 

“The fever’s started.” Dr. Aito confirms grimly. He turns behind him, ordering his assistants. “Get me a washcloth, a basin of cold water, and make me some willow bark tea.” 

“Is he-“ Iroh can’t even bring himself to say it. 

The look on Aito’s face is dangerously close to treasonous as he lifts up the bandages and checks Zuko’s burn. 

“It’s infected. I’m going to do everything I can, but…”

He keeps talking, but Iroh can’t hear anything. 

* * *

Zuko can’t bring himself to remove his arms from around Lu Ten’s midsection long enough to actually look him in the eyes when he asks, incredulous, “What are you _doing_ here?”, so he says it to his chest instead. 

Lu Ten chuckles and leans down to ruffle Zuko’s loose hair. 

“I can check up on my baby cousin, can’t I?” 

“ _Not_ a baby!” Zuko yells, and for a second, he’s six years old and giggling and Lu Ten is chasing him down a hallway. 

“Of course not. Big and strong, you must be, what, ten, now?” 

“Twelve!” Zuko says indignantly, and this slight on his honor infuriates him enough that he pulls away from Lu Ten and crosses his arms over his chest, standing to his full height. 

But then Lu Ten focuses directly on his burn. And Lu Ten’s teasing expression slides directly off his face and he kneels down, placing a gentle hand on Zuko’s unmarked skin and turning his jaw to look at the wound. 

“What did he do to you?” He breathes, low and raging, and if they weren’t- wherever they are- Zuko is sure he would have breathed fire. 

Zuko squirms out of his grasp and turns away. He still isn’t sure, really. The woman had said he wasn’t dead, but- Zuko reaches up and tentatively feels the burn. It doesn’t hurt, but his hand comes away sticky with blood and pus and burnt black bits. He examines his hand as if it’s attached to another body. 

Maybe it is. 

“Agni Kai.” Zuko says monotonically. Lu Ten makes a choked sound. 

“You can’t- you’re not _old enough_.” 

Zuko shrugs mechanically and sits back down by the water. He lets the current wash away the evidence from his hand and sits very still. Father had never said anything about how the legal age to participate in an Agni Kai was sixteen. Never seemed concerned. 

Lu Ten sits down next to him. “Ozai didn’t care, huh?”

“I disrespected the Fire Lord.” 

“Oh, cuz.” Lu Ten knocks his shoulder, and Zuko roughly wipes off the tears blurring his vision enough to look over at him. “If you knew how many times a day I disrespected my dad.” Lu Ten says softly. 

“He really misses you.” Zuko mumbles. “Why’d you have to leave?”

“I’m sorry, Zuko.” Lu Ten murmurs. “I didn’t want to. Even the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation cannot escape fate.” 

Zuko stares at his reflection in the stream, and realizes with a jolt, that despite the warmth and light diffusing through every blade of grass, every molecule of air, the sun is missing from the sky. 

* * *

They’ve stripped Zuko of the light sleep tunic they first put him into when he arrived here, and Iroh can now see, firsthand, what he has permitted to happen under his nose. Scars cross his nephew’s chest and wind up his shoulders. Five finger prints are permanently marked into the back of his shoulder, a light burn inked on the underside of his arm. 

Firebenders do not burn easy. These were not accidents. 

Last year, Zuko told him the broken wrist he sustained was due to a fall from the tree in the garden. Iroh stares at the splotches of darkened, rough skin around where the break occurred and wonders why he never prodded at that thin story. 

The fever has worsened considerably. Zuko hasn’t woken again since he yelled about Lu Ten. Aito keeps him sedated, and Iroh allows it to happen. 

It may be selfish of him, but Iroh cannot watch this child suffer for however longer Agni chooses for him to remain on this Earth. 

* * *

Ozai appears in the doorway as Aito is debriding the wound. He watches impassively as the doctor carefully cuts away the deadened flesh, tries to prune out the infection. 

Iroh can only ensure that the child is well and truly unconscious before he gets up and leaves the room, sliding the door shut in front of Ozai’s face. 

“How dare,” he seethes. “How dare you come here. As if you _care.”_

“I hear the wound is infected.” Ozai says as if he is discussing the crop yield in the colonies and not the fate of his only son. “The boy may not have long left to live-“

Iroh has a foot hooked around his brother’s weak ankle and a fist full of flames held to his left eye before he manages to register that Ozai is the Fire Lord, and that Iroh could be put to death for treason. 

The Dragon of the West thinks about the burn that wraps around Zuko’s collarbone and decides neither of these truths concern him. 

“If that child dies, brother,” Iroh says, low and raging. “I swear upon Agni and the crown of every Fire Lord that has come before you that you _will join him on that pyre.”_

Ozai hasn’t even bothered summoning a flame. 

Ozai just laughs. 

* * *

An odd heat has spread from Zuko’s chest, through his arms, and out into his fingertips. 

“Lu?” He gasps out. He reaches up. Blood has stopped flowing from the wound; it now bleeds sluggish and thick, and a deep pain in his cheekbone is thumping in time with his heart. 

Lu Ten looks sad, like when he left for the war. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Zuko.” He promises. “I’m staying right here.” 

“What’s happening to me?” 

Lu Ten doesn’t answer for a long time, but when he does, he refuses to meet Zuko’s eyes. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he repeats. “it won’t be like mine. You won’t be alone.” 

A heavy weight settles deep in Zuko’s chest, but something like relief floods his head. He won’t have to worry about training, about how Azula is constantly better, constantly winning Father’s affection, his approval. She’s the fitter heir, anyways. And maybe, maybe, maybe-

“Will I see Mom?” He croaks out. Lu Ten wraps an arm around his shoulders and presses him tight to his side. 

“I don’t know, Zuko. But I’m here. I won’t leave you.” 

* * *

It happens late at night, in the absence of Agni’s blessing. 

Iroh holds Zuko’s hand to his forehead and prays for intercession from any spirit that will listen, anyone at all. 

It doesn’t ease the rattling breath that just barely makes it out of his lungs. The inflamed, angry red skin that has crept down his face and neck, sending shooting tendrils into his chest. The tears that drip from his good eye unimpeded. 

Iroh begs mercy anyways. 

* * *

  
  


Zuko’s chest feels tight. Like a band is stretched taut around his lungs. 

“It will be over soon, child.” 

Zuko startles up. The woman has returned. She floats a foot off the ground, and it almost hurts to look at her. The front of her white robes are clasped together with a circular pin, tendrils radiating out, and something in Zuko’s fever-hazy brain clicks. 

“ _Agni.”_

He falls prostrate on the ground, whispering every prayer, every devotion, his mother taught him. 

“Rise, my child.”

Zuko does, unsteadily, but keeps his eyes averted. Spirits are not to be trifled with. 

“I don’t feel well.” He confesses, but the words get lost somewhere on the way out of his mouth. The burn has spread down his neck and onto his chest, and his heart is starting to beat an odd tapped-out tune. 

“Look at me.” 

Zuko forces his eyes up. The glow has dissipated somewhat, and molten coppery-gold of the woman’s eyes are _so much like Mom’s-_

“Zuko, son of Ursa and Ozai, line of Sozin and Roku.” The woman says, as if she is musing. Something about that sentence strikes odd with Zuko, but Agni has already moved on. “Your forefathers have devastated the balance of this world, and now your own father has seen it fit to strike down his firstborn in a sacred ceremony that you were not yet old enough to participate in.” 

Zuko wants to say something- maybe apologize, prostrate himself again- but his tongue is glued down, and the heat has reached his head- 

“Ozai cannot ordain himself Fate-Keeper. It is not your time yet. Your providence, light-child, lies in restoring balance to the world. Thus, so you shall. Pray to me, child, when you need guidance, and I will answer to you.” 

Agni reaches out one finger and presses it gently to Zuko’s forehead, and the world explodes in blinding white. 

* * *

It takes Iroh a moment to realize Zuko’s heart has stopped beating. 

He checks his pulse again. Turns the small limp hand over, two fingers under his slight jaw. Nothing-nothing-nothing beats out a taunting rhythm. 

“Prince Iroh-“ Dr. Aito says gently. He pulls away Iroh’s hand from Zuko’s limp one, reaches up to shut his one open eye. 

Iroh stands. Looks at the prone body of his nephew- _another child he failed to protect_ \- still burning with a fever raging and no beating heart to sustain it, covered in the suffer-marks Iroh himself once knew intimately. 

Iroh screams. 

* * *

The pyre burns. 

Ozai does not burn with it. 

But Iroh, forcing himself to stare directly at the small body wrapped in white, knows that it is a temporary condition for his younger brother. 

Ozai will burn, even if Iroh must burn with him. 

* * *

Half a world away, in a southern cave made of ice and snow, a child awakes in the darkness. 

* * *


	2. Zuko of the Southern Water Tribe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out on a hunt, Hakoda and Bato stumble across a child abandoned in a cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay FIRST of all, the response to the first chapter was literally amazing thank yall for being so cool!!!
> 
> HUGE MASSIVE thanks to agentcalliope (tumblr and ao3), beta extraordinaire, who literally read through my draft and listened to me rant and helped me fix things a gazillion times- YOU DA REAL MVP
> 
> also: massive themes from this chapter are used with permission from avocadolove's iconic fic Another Brother. if you haven't read it, you're literally missing out. its the BLUEPRINT.

* * *

Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe is _not_ having a good day, thank you very much.

Sokka had another rough night- two nightmares in a row- and Hakoda had barely slept in between calming him down and trying to keep Katara in her own bed. And then, far before the sun had broke the dawn, Bato had snuck in quiet and shook him awake so they could get a head start on the hunt. Hakoda stares blearily out at the white snow, now stained red where Tulok had managed to take down a reindeer. He tilts his head back against the cool stone of the cave behind him and shuts his eyes, just for a moment-

“What crawled up your ass and died there this morning?” Bato asks casually, slinging his spear over his shoulder. 

“There are kids around, Bato.” Hakoda says mildly, mostly to be annoying. 

Tulok makes an enraged sound from where he and Amaruq are loading up the reindeer carcass to the sled. “I’m not a _kid,_ Chief, I’m sixteen!” He yells. 

“Right. Child.” Hakoda says, crossing his arms. “And kids shouldn’t swear.” 

“What, you and Bato were perfect pictures of innocence at my age?” 

Bato snorts loudly. “Tulok, when we were your age, Koda, Kya, and I once snuck into a council meeting and-” 

“-ATTENDED quietly and gave our input as members of the tribe.” Hakoda interrupts, clapping a hand over Bato’s mouth. 

Tulok laughs as Amaruq finishes the last tie on the sled. 

“All secure, we’re good to go!” Amaruq calls.

Hakoda nods at him and pushes himself off the wall as Tulok checks the wolves’ harnesses. Bato claps a hand on his shoulder, staring idly into the small cave behind them. And then Bato freezes, hand tightening around his spear.

“Bato?” Hakoda questions low, hand on the boomerang at his hip. 

“Koda-” Bato drops his spear and runs into the cave. 

“Stay here!” Hakoda orders over his shoulder to the boys as he runs in after him. 

Bato is crouched on the ground, his back to Hakoda. 

“Bato, what the _fuck-_ ”

A child is lying still on the stone ground of the cave. Pale as death, lips blue, clothed only in a white tunic. His loose hair is darker than ink, save for an odd forelock of golden-light. A terrible burn covers half of the child’s face, and Hakoda stills, kneeling down by Bato. 

“Is he?” He asks. 

Bato, who has two fingers underneath the child’s jaw, shakes his head. After a moment, he straightens up. “Amaruq! Bring me every blanket we’ve got on the sled!” 

“He’s _alive?”_

“Unfortunately.” Bato says grimly. 

Hakoda swears, and he and Bato share a look for a moment. There is only one scenario which leads to a child this young being abandoned in a cave, and it is not easy to think about. 

“War child.” Bato says softly, turning the boy’s jaw to inspect the burn. It’s nasty and deep, but seems to have been at least somewhat taken care of. No infection spreads through the deep blisters, as it usually does. 

“Must be.” Hakoda says. “I wasn’t aware we’d had raids on the outer villages recently.” 

“Neither was I.” 

Amaruq arrives, and Hakoda and Bato waste no time bundling the boy in furs and blankets. Hakoda hoists him into his arms. He can’t be much older than Sokka- might even be younger. 

“We’ll need to send word to the other villages. Find out who did this.” Hakoda says as an answer to Tulok’s questioning stare. “You and Amaruq run back and get another sled- get word to the villages as fast as possible.” 

“If he survives that long.” Bato says. “We need to get him to your mother, now.” 

* * *

  
Kanna doesn’t even blink when Hakoda bursts into the hut and lays the bundle of blankets on Sokka’s bedroll in front of the fire. 

“What happened?” Kanna asks briskly, already pushing up her sleeves. 

“Dad?” Katara says curiously, putting down her doll. “Who’s that?”

“Katara, go find Sokka, then go to Yura’s hut, and _stay there._ ” Hakoda says, getting in front of his daughter so she won’t see the opened burn, the blood that has seeped into the blankets. 

Katara looks for a second like she’s going to argue, but she takes one look at Hakoda’s face, nods once, and runs to get her parka. 

“War child.” His mother murmurs as she kneels down by the boy. 

“Think so.” Hakoda says. How he wasn’t informed about the boy’s existence, he’ll never know. “Found him in some caves up north. Abandoned. I sent runners to the villages.” 

Kanna gently examines the burn and clicks her tongue, muttering a scathing condemnation of the _spiritsforsaken_ _ashmakers._

Hakoda stays close as Kanna layers a balm over the burn and binds it with clean bandaging. Finally, she sits back on her heels. 

“Is he not sick?” Hakoda asks. 

His mother shakes her head. 

“How is that possible?” He asks, incredulous. “He was almost blue when we found him.” 

Kanna leans forward and runs her fingers through the golden hair at his forehead. “Spirit-touched.” 

Hakoda scoffs. The spirits have not deigned to intervene over generations of raids and murders and pillaging. Why would they start now? “Mom, come on-” 

The child’s visible eye flies open, and burns a brighter molten gold than Hakoda has ever seen in a bonfire. He stumbles back, trips over one of Sokka’s toys, and lands hard on the ground. 

Kanna hasn’t even moved from her position by the boy’s side. 

Hakoda scrambles back up and kneels next to her. The boy’s eye is already half-closed again, but he focuses on Hakoda for a moment. 

“Uncle?” He mumbles. 

“Can you tell me your name?” Hakoda asks softly. 

The child makes a face. “You know my name, Uncle.” 

“I know.” Hakoda winces. “Humor your uncle for a moment.” 

“Zuko,” The boy says, with a tone that clearly conveys, _obviously._

Zuko.

Within a second, he’s out again. 

Hakoda stands. “Can you keep an eye on him?” He asks Kanna abruptly, and pulls his hood on to find Bato.   
  


* * *

“Zuko.” Bato says. He laughs humorlessly. “I don’t think that’s one of ours.” 

“And he’s not even cold.” 

“How-”

“Tui and La, I have _no_ idea. I shit you not, Bato, he has _gold eyes.”_ Hakoda says, and for a moment, all he can see are the deep-set copper irises of the man who put a sword through Kya’s stomach, and he looks away from Bato for a moment. 

Bato puts down his carving knife and stands. “We’ll know more when Amaruq and Tulok get back. Call a village meeting.” He says, putting a bracing hand on the back of Hakoda’s neck. “Try not to get all tied up about this before you even know what’s going to happen.” 

* * *

  
Zuko is really only aware of being _warm, warm, warm- too warm-_

He opens one eye and finds someone staring directly at him. A boy with tan skin and bright blue eyes. 

“Oh, good.” The boy says, and sits back down. “I thought you’d _never_ wake up. Who are you? What happened to your eye? Why are you here?” 

“Uh.” 

Everything is dizzy, everything is too warm, but Zuko manages to sit up. He reaches up and finds bandages wrapped around over half his face, a dull, deep ache taking up a majority of his cheekbone. 

“What happened to me?” He asks roughly. 

The boy huffs. “I asked you _first._ ” 

“Well, I don’t know!” 

“How can you not know?!” The boy crosses his arms. 

A familiar growing panic is clawing at his throat as Zuko looks around and takes in _snow_ and _furs_ and _blue blue blue, wrong blue-_

Wasn’t he supposed to be in red? 

“You’re Water Tribe.” He says abruptly. 

“Yeah? So are you?” The boy says. “Even though you haven't even told me your name, and Bato won’t let me go to the meeting tonight, even though I’m old enough, and I’m ‘supposed to be learning’ how to be-” 

The panic reaches its boiling point and something constricts painfully in Zuko’s chest. “Don’t go.” He says. “Don’t go to the meeting.” 

“Uh, okay.” The boy doesn’t even bother disguising the bemused look on his face. “Bato won’t let me go anyways. So.” He looks furtively around the empty room- hut? Is that what they were called?- before turning back to Zuko. “Are you a war child?” He whispers. 

“WHAT?” Zuko yells indignantly, sitting straight up and throwing off the wrong-blue blankets- oops, wrong move, that makes the room spin and his face _burn_. “I’M NOT A WAR CHILD!” 

“Okay, well, then, who are you?” 

“I’m-” 

Zuko tries. Searches. Comes up with nameless faces in the dark, shadows too blurry to make out- 

“I don’t know.” He says. “I- I don’t know.” 

“Hm.” The boy strokes his chin theatrically. “Maybe you hit your head on the ice?” 

“I did _not.”_

“Then who are you?” The boy throws his hands in the air. 

“Zuko?” Zuko supplies. He knows that’s right. He _knows_ that’s his name, just like he knows the fire rose with his yells and quieted with his breathing. 

The boy doesn’t seem to notice however, and just crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s the dumbest name I’ve ever heard.” The boy says, still giving him that odd expression. “You outer village people are _weird._ I’m Sokka.” 

Sokka sticks out his hand, and Zuko stares at it for a moment, unmoving, until Sokka groans and grabs his hand, navigating it so they’re clasping each other’s forearms. 

“You really don’t remember anything, do you?” He asks, tilting his head.

“My head sort of hurts.” Zuko says honestly, because it does. 

“I’d be more surprised if it didn’t.” A deep voice says from the doorway. Zuko’s heart jumps into his throat, but Sokka just gets up and stretches leisurely as a tall man wearing a fur-lined parka in the same stupid blue enters the room. 

“Hi, Dad!” Sokka says cheerfully. 

“I thought I told you to stay at Yura’s.” The man says. Sokka grins. 

“You told _Katara_ to stay at Yura’s.” 

“Yes, and I told Katara to tell you to stay at Yura’s-” 

“Well, she didn’t-“

“Sokka, for La’s sake, go before I throw you headfirst into a snowbank.” The man threatens, but Sokka doesn’t even look remotely scared as he gets up and pulls a similar parka over his head. 

“Bye, Zuko!” he yells as he leaves the hut. 

And then it’s just Zuko. And a tall man wearing blue who could _easily_ overpower him- 

“Peace, child.” The man says, kneeling down a few feet away. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Zuko almost laughs. Do people here truly abide by promises? 

“I just need you to answer some questions for me.” The man says. Zuko nods jerkily, wonders if, since the fire rises with him, can he-

“Your name is Zuko?” The man asks. 

“Yes.” 

“I’m Chief Hakoda.” The man says. “My second, Bato, and I found you in a cave a few miles north of here. What do you remember?” 

Zuko tries again- a cave, does that help?- but still gets blurry figures that won’t turn around, won’t talk to him. 

“Nothing.” He says. “I-I can’t-” 

“It’s alright. I sent runners to the outer villages, but no one seems to be missing a child. We’re just not quite sure where you came from.” 

“I-” 

Flashes of red. Gold. The fire burns hot behind him. Hakoda watches the flame rise and fall with an unreadable expression on his face, and an ugly knot settles in Zuko’s stomach. Something is _wrong wrong wrong,_ he’s in danger- 

Zuko may have no clue who he is, but he isn’t _stupid._ There’s a war on. 

“I don’t know.” He says. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember anything, I’m sorry.” 

Hakoda sighs, but he doesn’t move forward, and his hands stay in his lap. Zuko lets out a breath. “It’s alright. My mother will be back in shortly. Please remain in the hut with her.” 

And with that Hakoda leaves Zuko alone by the fire, surrounded by blue and white and not a hint of what’s going to happen to him.   
  


* * *

  
Hakoda looks out over the murmuring crowd with a nervousness he hasn’t felt since he was eighteen and Speaking for the first time. Someone claps a hand on his shoulder and Hakoda turns around to find Bato standing behind him. 

“It’ll be alright, Koda.” He says quietly. “Tell the story, and we will consider what to do with the child.” 

Hakoda intakes a sharp breath. “He’s a firebender.” 

Bato’s hand stills. “Are you sure?”

“I watched- Sokka snuck in and talked to him. The fire- it responded to him.” 

“He tried to _hurt Sokka_ -?”

“No, no, no,” Hakoda interrupts hastily. “Not at all, he and Sokka were just talking. He can barely move. It just,” 

Hakoda thinks about the flames rising with Zuko’s yells, falling with his breaths. Black soot and _Kya-_ red staining purple in her blue robes. 

Zuko is a child, as Sokka is. But children do not stay children, and a firebender in the village? 

Bato seems to sense his feelings. “Just Speak, Chief.” He says. “We will come to a decision together.” 

Hakoda nods, and Bato sits down in front of the crowd as Hakoda moves to the small platform in the front of the room. 

“Everyone,” Hakoda says, and the room quiets instantly. He catches Bato’s eye and takes a deep breath. “I come before you today not as your Chief, but as a member of our Tribe. I hope to Speak, and I hope for you to Listen, and when I am done, and I hope to come to a decision together.” 

“Speak, and we will Listen.” The room says in unison, and Hakoda begins. 

* * *

“I didn’t know any of the outer villages had war children.” Yura says, crossing her arms. 

“Everyone said they didn’t.” Amaruq pipes up from the back of the room. 

Iola snorts. “Of course they did. It’s a _war_ child, and a firebender to boot. Who wants to admit they have a little ashmaker brat on their hands? They probably left him for dead.” 

Hakoda eyes the elder, but tightens his jaw and says nothing. Old burns splatter purple and mottled up both Iola’s arms, and he rarely contributes in village meetings. 

“The circumstances of the child’s birth are not his fault.” Bato says. He sounds calm, but what good is thirty-five years of living in each other’s pockets if you can’t identify when your best friend is five seconds away from inciting a riot? Hakoda raises an eyebrow, and Bato rolls his eyes in response. 

“Be that as it may, he is a firebender.” Hakoda says. 

“Tough luck for the kid.” Iola says. “Tragic that he was unlucky enough to be born. I say we put him back out on the ice and out of his misery.” 

A disconcerted rumbling goes through the room, and an uneasy feeling settles in Hakoda’s stomach. 

As much as seeing the flames rise with Zuko’s yells made Hakoda’s blood freeze in his veins, the child is just that: a _child._ Bony, shorter than Sokka, with one cheek that hasn’t yet lost its baby fat and the other disproportionately thinned out with missing flesh- most likely cut off when it died following the burn. 

There have been raids on his tribe for nearly a century. Hakoda knows how to treat burns. And the one that consumes the child’s face, swelling one eye totally shut and malforming his left ear, is devastating. 

It should have killed him. 

Just like being left in a cave close to winter with no proper clothing should have. 

Hakoda thinks of golden eyes and golden hair, of the moon and the sun, and of balance. He is not a spiritual man; it’s been hard to see any supposed benevolence on the behalf of Tui and La since they set Kya’s body afloat, and Hakoda stood next to one child whose voice was raw with screams and the other who was staring straight out with a set jaw, refusing to speak. 

“I have two issues to Speak on.” Kanna says from the back of the room, and the muttering immediately quiets. She stands up, looking Hakoda in the eye.

Hakoda nods slightly and sits down on his platform. 

“I believe the child is spirit-touched.” Kanna announces. “His injuries were severe; he should not have survived them, or being left in that cave. He has a Spirit guarding him. I don’t know about the rest of you, but incurring the wrath of whoever it is keeping this child alive does not seem wise.” 

No one, not even Iola, dares interrupt. 

“Secondly, as most of you know, I was raised in the Northern Tribe.” 

Hakoda hears Tulok, sitting in the back with Amaruq and the other young men, mutter a swear before he spits on the ground, and gives him a look. Tulok reddens and quiets down. 

“There were some raids in the early years, but they weren’t successful. During one such raid, right before the winter months, our warriors were able to capture some firebending soldiers and hold them for information and ransom. But as the sky darkened and the sun disappeared, they weakened. By the time the ransom letter was returned from the Fire Nation with no demands met, all of them had died. It seems they held a connection to the sun, almost as our waterbenders did with Tui.” 

Kanna lifts her head and looks directly at Hakoda.

“We are only six weeks away from losing the sun. If he is a child from the outer villages, he may have survived our winters before. But we can’t know if he will survive this one.

The child will likely die, regardless of what we choose here tonight. Our true decision is between giving him a warm, comfortable death or a quick, cold one. And of course, if he survives- it is obvious the Spirit wills it.” 

The meetinghouse is utterly silent. 

It’s not even a choice. 

“Well?” Yura prompts gently, after Hakoda has failed to answer for over a minute.

Hakoda looks up and meets the waiting eyes of his people. “I trust my mother’s instinct.” He says. “I will care for the child along with my own, and if he survives this winter-” _if he doesn’t-_ “-then he will be considered a part of my family, so long as he contributes to the tribe as the rest of the children do.” 

Kanna nods approvingly, Iola looks outraged, and Bato looks as though he feels relieved. Hakoda, mainly, feels the chiefdom weighing down his shoulders like he never has before.

* * *

Zuko is alone in the hut long after dark. He considers at one point getting up and running away- if they’re going to kill him, he’s not going to make it _easy_ for them- but he tries once, and the pain in his face is enough to make him want to throw up, so he sits back down again. Whatever. If someone comes to kill him, then he’ll get up. 

At least there’s a fire.

He stares into the flames as his face throbs. Zuko reaches up and feels the bandaging that obscures half of his vision, and is suddenly struck with an all-encompassing need to know what happened to him. 

What he looks like. 

He takes a furtive glance around the hut and finds a cooking pan stacked on the ground, along with utensils and supplies. It takes him a few minutes to crawl over in between his remaining eye going blurry and his arms shaking, but he _has to know._

Zuko takes a deep breath, and then reaches up to unravel the white bandages. The closer he gets to his skin, the more discolored the bandages become, and he has to close his eyes and will his hands not to shake when he reaches the last layer. The cold air stings painfully at the exposed skin, and Zuko counts to three, controls his breath, and forces his eyes open. 

Slightly distorted in the copper of the pot, Zuko sees himself. 

It’s a burn. He can only look at it for a few seconds before the pot falls out of his hands and hits the ground. It’s wide and massive and _charred._

A scream echoes through his head and Zuko has to move away from the fire. The heat seems more oppressive than warming, suddenly. 

“Dad said not to!”

“Dad’s still at the meeting, and Yura was gone, too, and besides, I already met him. He’s not like, dangerous, or anything-”

Zuko whips around at the voices outside, and grabs a knife from the pile of utensils without thinking. Never give up without a fight, right? “Who’s there?” He demands. It comes out scratchy and hoarse instead of intimidating, but he holds the knife out in front of him anyways. 

Sokka appears in the doorway, along with a girl a few inches shorter than him, with dark hair pulled away from her face. Zuko feels his heart slow a bit. He sags back into his pile of blankets. 

“Whoa, just me and Katara!” Sokka puts his hands up. “What’s up with the knife?” 

Zuko looks down. He is, in fact, still gripping the knife tight in his hands. He lets it fall onto the floor with a clatter. “I thought someone was trying to kill me.” He mumbles, turning to look at Sokka. 

“No one’s trying to ki-”

Sokka cuts off, eyes wide, and Zuko realizes too late that he took his bandages off. 

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles, turning away. Tears are pricking at his eyes, and he gasps as it burns. 

“I thought you had a big cut or something.” Sokka says from behind him in a choked tone.

Zuko shakes his head, can’t even answer as the tears drip down his ravaged skin and his throat closes up. 

There’s a small hand on his shoulder, and Zuko jumps. It’s just the girl- Katara, Sokka called her? She’s kneeling next to him with a container and fresh bandages. 

“I can rewrap it for you.” She says softly. “Gran-gran and I have treated burns before.” 

Zuko nods, unable to find his voice, and Katara makes quick work of spreading a balm across his face, laying a piece of soft fabric over his eye and crossing it with clean bandaging. 

“There, done.” She says, leaning back.

Zuko hesitantly reaches up. Something like relief floods his stomach when he only finds fabric. “Thank you,” He gets out. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” Katara asks. 

“That you had to see it.” 

She stands, gathering up the used bandaging. “I’ve seen worse.” 

“I told you he wasn’t dangerous.” Sokka says, flopping down onto the bedroll next to Zuko. “He’s just a kid. How old are you, anyways?” 

“Uh-” 

Zuko searches. Nothing. “I don’t know.” He shrugs.

  
“ _What?”_ Sokka yelps. “How can you not know how old you are? You definitely hit your head on the ice.” 

“I _did not_ hit my head on the ice-” 

“I think I remember specifically telling _both_ of you to stay at Yura’s.” 

Zuko looks up sharply. Hakoda is standing in the doorway along with a taller man wearing an identical parka. 

“Dad!” Katara runs over and Hakoda picks her up. “I’m sorry,” she says mournfully. “Sokka said we should go make sure Zuko was okay, I know you and Bato said not to-” 

“Oh great, throw me under the sled, thanks, Katara.” Sokka mutters under his breath. 

“Don’t act innocent, young lady.” Hakoda says. “Now, can both of you please wait outside for a few minutes? Bato and I need to talk to Zuko.” 

Sokka huffs and starts getting up, and Zuko stares at the two men flanking the entrance. Where did he put that knife- 

“C-can they stay?” He asks hoarsely, surprising even himself. “Please, sir.” 

Hakoda looks over at the other man, who nods slightly. “That’s fine, Zuko.” He says. Sokka sits back down, and Hakoda sits cross-legged where he stands, keeping Katara in his lap while the other man sits beside him. 

“The first thing I need to know, Zuko, is what you want.” 

Zuko blinks. “What I want?” he echoes. How could he possibly know what he wants? But Hakoda nods anyways. 

“Yes. Would you like to stay here with us?” 

Zuko stills and feels Sokka do the same. He _knows,_ in the same way he can tell that the sun set four hours ago and that there’s a large bonfire crackling outside, that he didn’t come from this place. But he’s been fed and taken care of, and does he have an alternative, really? 

“Yes.” he says quietly. Sokka badly hides a grin, starts chattering immediately about how there’s _no one_ in the village his age and they can go hunting together and- 

Hakoda holds up a hand, and Sokka falls silent. 

“Alright.” He says, and his expression is almost unreadable. “We’re almost to the winter months, and we won’t see much sun until after. I believe that will be difficult for you. But after the winter ends, you’ll be considered part of my family.” 

Zuko refuses to think about the sun missing from the sky, and focuses on the warmth he can feel heating his back. 

“Thank you, sir,” He says, and his hands form an odd shape- one palm held straight and the other fisted at the base, as he bends slightly at the waist. 

Hakoda looks at him oddly, and Zuko immediately drops it.   
  


* * *

The Southern Water Tribe fits like a boot half-a-size too big, made suitable with a rag shoved in the toe. It’s odd- like he knows that he’s not used to wooden utensils, or sleeping on a bedroll on the ground, or the way there are community chores that everyone has to help with- but once he starts, he can’t imagine having lived any other way. 

Zuko can’t manage much, with only half of his vision, so the older woman, Yura, who lives across from them (she has an old burn on her wrist. Zuko looks away.) sits him down with a needle and thread and teaches him how to sew. It’s not easy with only one good eye- he stabs himself more than the fabric- but he has to stay useful. If he’s not useful, he’s just- 

Yura digs out a dark blue parka the third day that Kanna’s deemed him well enough to help with chores and drops it in his lap. 

“You’ll need it.” She says, avoiding his eyes. “It only gets colder. You can alter it to fit better” 

Zuko inspects the parka. It’s dusty, well-worn, but taken care of. The phases of the moon are carefully stitched down the front, intricate stars around the wrists. It's a wine-dark, almost black, like the sea where it meets the sky at twilight. 

It’s beautiful. 

Zuko hugs it to his chest and looks up to where Yura is busying herself preparing dinner. 

“Don’t you need it?” He asks. Yura shakes her head, a thin smile on her lips that doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“Not anymore.” She says, and her voice is rough with an emotion that, like everything else these days, feels hazily familiar to Zuko. Like if he could just reach through the veil and shatter it, everything would make sense again. He shakes his head slightly to clear out the dust and holds a hand up when it makes him dizzy. 

“Thank you.” He tells her, and he even remembers not to make the odd bow.   
  


* * *

  
Sokka talks. 

A lot. 

Hakoda still won’t let him do anything too physical, but one day, when the men are gone on a hunt, Sokka drags him out to the fields of endless white right outside the village and hands him a wooden weapon, curved to fit in his hand. 

“It’s a boomerang.” Sokka tells him solemnly. “The greatest weapon of the Water Tribe Warrior.” 

“Kinda just looks like a stick of wood.” Zuko says, mostly to annoy him. Sokka scowls. 

“Ice-head.” 

“Numbskull.” 

“Shut up. It’s not just _wood._ You throw it-” Sokka mimes a throw. “-and it’ll always come back to you.” 

Zuko examines the boomerang, painted blue and white, with a sharp edge carefully whittled into one side. It seems like a lot of work for not enough return. 

“Why don’t you just use swords?” he asks blankly. Sokka shrugs and moves Zuko’s hand so it’s positioned correctly. 

“We use spears and boomerangs, mostly. Swords use too much metal. Besides, these are better for hunting. And you and I, when spring comes? We’re going hunting.” 

Zuko knows about the hunting, at least. Everyone gathers and hunts for everyone else, and food can get scarce easily around here. Bringing in meat, that means you’re being useful. 

“Okay.” He says decisively. “Teach me.”   
  


* * *

  
Katara doesn’t talk to him much. She mostly keeps to Kanna’s side, learning about healing and attending lessons with the other kids. She’ll say a few words to him at dinner, but other than that, she keeps her eyes down and stays quiet. 

Zuko asks Sokka about it, one day after breakfast, when Sokka had asked Katara if she wanted to come build a fort, and Katara had immediately made an excuse and left. 

“ _Is Katara shy?_ ” Sokka repeats, snorting. “She’s never been shy a day in her life.” 

“Then how come she never talks to me?” 

Sokka shrugs and goes back to packing hard snow together for the first wall of their fort. “We’ve never had a new person in the village. She just has to get used to you.” 

Zuko, frankly, thinks that the massive burn taking up half his face doesn’t make him any more approachable. Kanna made him take the bandages off a few days ago, though she still covers it in the thick balm and makes him wrap a scarf over it before he goes outside.

It’s not pretty.

Zuko forced himself to examine it, the day she took them off. It’s carved right into his skin, red and angry, with marks of deeper damage around his eye that still won’t open all the way. He can’t see very well out of it- only shapes and colors, really- but he doesn’t bother telling anyone, the same way he doesn’t when he realizes he can’t hear too well out of his left ear, either. 

The rest of his face confuses him just as much. His eyes a bright gold- _wolf’s eyes,_ Sokka had said jealously. _I want wolf’s eyes!-_ his skin almost as pale as the ever present snow on the ground, his hair a great deal darker, save for the very front portion of it, which is almost as gold as his eyes. He looks different from everyone else here. He hears whispers of _war child_ , mostly from the old man Hakoda and Bato both told him to stay away from, and it twists his stomach every time. 

But it’s not like he can refute it. He understands why Katara stays away.   
  


* * *

  
Bato is calm and patient as he teaches Zuko how to weave a rope net. He doesn’t yell or raise his hand once, not even when he has to undo an entire line of knots Zuko’s messed up. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammers out as Bato takes out the last knot. Bato gives him an odd look. 

“It’s alright, child.” Bato says. “You’re not meant to have everything down perfectly on the first try.” 

Well, _that_ doesn’t sound right. 

“But I messed up.” 

“So do it again.” Bato takes the rope and slowly demonstrates the knot. “See? Pay attention to your spacing.” 

“Okay.” 

Zuko takes the rope again.   
  


* * *

  
Sokka, apparently, isn’t the only one that yells. Katara’s just as loud when she’s not busy ignoring Zuko, and her voice is higher, so she can out-yell Sokka every time.

They yell, mostly at each other, but sometimes at him, and occasionally at their _dad,_ and if that isn’t the most terrifying thing in the world, Zuko doesn’t know what is. 

They’re cleaning up after dinner one night, Zuko gathering the dirty dishes and bringing them to the bucket in the corner where they’re washed, when yet another fight breaks out. Zuko freezes in the corner as the yelling begins. 

“It’s _your_ turn to do the dishes, Sokka.” Katara says, crossing her arms. 

“So what? I had to help gut the fish today, and besides, you can just use your stupid woo-woo magic and be done in like, three minutes.” 

“It’s not _stupid woo-woo magic,_ it’s WATERBENDING!” Katara yells, stomping her foot. The walls shake slightly, and Hakoda groans, getting up from his Pai Sho game with Bato. 

“Stop it, you two.” He says sternly. 

“Dad, it’s not fair!” Katara says. “It’s Sokka’s turn. I did the dishes last night, and Zuko did them the night before!” 

“Sokka, just go do the dishes, this isn’t a big deal.” 

“I worked with you guys for _hours_ while Katara was still in lessons. Why can’t she just do the dishes?” Sokka says furiously. 

“Because it’s your turn, and you know we share work equally. Go-” 

“NO!” Sokka yells. “I’m not going to! I hate you!” 

And with that ice-shattering declaration, he storms off towards the store room. Katara seems unfazed, and Hakoda’s about to sit back down when the plates clatter out of Zuko’s hands and hit the floor. 

“Zuko?” Hakoda asks, getting back up. “Are you alright?” 

Zuko can’t answer for a few moments. His scar is burning red-hot, and his throat is rapidly closing off. He shakes his head as Hakoda moves towards him, and the man stops where he is. 

“Are you going to…” Zuko manages to force out. “...discipline him?” 

Hakoda frowns. “I’ll go in and talk to him in a minute. I just want to give him some time to cool down first. Why?” 

“No,” Zuko says. “he disrespected you. Are you going to _discipline_ him?” 

Because if he is, Zuko needs to leave immediately, needs to _get out get out get out-_

Hakoda’s face softens, and he relaxes, laying his palms flat against his thighs. 

“Zuko, I’m just going to talk to him. It was only an argument, no one was injured or in danger. I would never harm a child, certainly not on purpose.” 

“Oh.” Zuko chokes on the syllable. The scar flares; he touches a cool hand to it. “Oh.” 

“That’s not what discipline is. Please don’t ever worry about that, child.” 

Zuko nods, and Hakoda sighs, getting up, and then follows Sokka back into the store room. 

After a few minutes, with no loud noises or yelling coming from the backroom, Sokka emerges with red eyes, Hakoda’s hand firm on his shoulder. He apologizes quietly to Katara, then does the dishes without another word of argument. 

When Sokka changes into his sleep clothes, Zuko furtively checks over him, but finds no bruises, no burns, no red splotches dotting his skin, and he lets out a breath from the deepest parts of his lungs. 

Maybe people here really do keep their promises. 

* * *

  
One night, as the sun rises later and sets earlier, Zuko jerks awake from a nightmare he can’t quite remember, other than cold tile beneath him and raging fire above him, and finds Katara’s bedroll empty. Kanna, Hakoda, and Sokka are still asleep, and the fire is burnt down to embers. 

Zuko sits up, hugging his arms around himself. Katara’s gone, and the hut is suddenly feeling far too hot. 

He has a hunch. 

Zuko pulls his boots and parka on and heads outside. 

_Spirits,_ he’s cold. His teeth start chattering the moment he’s outside, and Zuko pulls the scarf tighter over his scar. There’s a full moon; it hangs curiously large in the sky, and Zuko stares up at it for a moment before he shakes his head. 

There she is. 

Katara is standing in the clearing in front of the meetinghouse, something glinting fluid and clear, suspended between her hands. Zuko stops dead in his tracks. 

“You’re a waterbender.” He says incredulously. Katara jumps and the water drops into the snow. She groans in frustration, turning her back on Zuko again. 

“A bad one.” She says, and tries again to pull up the water. 

“I thought- I didn’t know there were any waterbenders here.” 

“I’m the last one.” Katara says tonelessly. She flicks her wrist upwards, and a bit of snow follows her movement. “The Fire Nation took the rest of them before I was born” 

Zuko swallows thickly as something clenches in his stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” he offers. 

“Yeah,” Katara says. The snow doesn’t bend to her will as well as she wants it to, and she stomps, making a layer of ice-cold water jump a foot off the ground. “Me too.” She finally turns and looks at him, her eyes raking over the scarf tucked around his face. “Why are you even awake?” 

“Nightmare.” He says. “Why are you?”

Katara shrugs, glances up at the moon. “Don’t know. Hard to sleep, sometimes, when the moon is full.” 

She sits down heavy in the snow, and Zuko follows suit after a moment. They sit in silence, and Zuko tilts his head up towards the thousands of stars littering the black, trying to remember the constellations Sokka and Tulok taught him. There’s Raava, there, and Yangchen’s arrow pointing west, there, and-

“I’m sorry if I’ve been mean to you.” Katara says abruptly, and Zuko tears his face away from the stars to find her eyes red. 

“Oh, uh-“ Spirits, he’s not good with emotions, is he? “It’s alright.” 

Katara shakes her head. “No, it’s not. You didn’t do anything.” She says, and takes a deep breath. “When I was little, there was a raid. It always snowed black, before the ships came, and when it started again, I ran to find my mom and found this _man_ in our hut. Mom told me to leave. I got my dad, but by the time we got back-“ 

Katara pulls her head up. It’s a wonder the tears haven’t frozen to her cheek. She’s touching a small, round pendant attached to a ribbon at her neck. 

“She was gone.” Katara’s voice is hard and emotionless. “I s-saw her. It was-“ 

She cuts off, and Zuko only has to think _what would Sokka do?_ for a second before he crawls over to her and wraps an arm around her shaking shoulders. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles. “I’m really sorry.” 

Katara shakes her head and pulls back.“It’s not your fault.” She says emphatically. “It’s not. It’s just- you look like him.” 

The words settle like acid, burning all the way down. 

“Oh.” Zuko manages. “O-oh.” 

He looks like a murderer. He looks like a Fire Nation murderer. 

“It’s not your fault.” Katara repeats fiercely, and now there’s arms around his shoulders. Zuko feels himself tense up, but he relaxes after a moment. 

They stay there, snow sleeping through Zuko’s clothes, for a long while, but when Katara finally pulls apart from him, her face is softened, somehow. 

“Come on.” She says, standing up and dusting off the snow. “You’re still healing, you need sleep.”   
  


She offers out a mittened hand. 

Zuko takes it. 

* * *

The days grow short. Zuko doesn’t notice, at first. He’s gotten fairly adept at sewing (turns out it’s easier when you have one-and-a-half eyes to see instead of just one). Yura has started showing him how to embroider some of the simpler designs, and he works on decorating an amauti Yura has sewn for the family a few huts down expecting a baby. 

Now that the ice has cracked between he and Katara, she joins Sokka and him on their daily escapades, practicing her waterbending while offering taunts when Zuko still fails to hit the mark with the boomerang, and proving a worthy fighter when Sokka gets fed up with her insults and tackles her into a snowbank. 

In fact, between his chores, running around with Katara and Sokka, and dinners with Hakoda, Bato, and Kanna, Zuko doesn’t notice the days are shorter until he does. And then he notices it hard. 

He and Sokka are putting the finishing touches on their fort, packing snow into the crevices and putting up old, pilfered blankets on the walls when Katara sticks her head in. 

“Bato says dinner’s ready and to hurry up, ‘cause if you get home after Dad there won’t be any sea prunes left.” She says, and Zuko immediately makes a face. Sea prunes are quite possibly the most disgusting food he’s ever eaten. He thinks. 

“He can _have_ the sea prunes.” He groans, but Sokka gasps and leaps up. 

“He wouldn’t!” Sokka shouts. He turns to Zuko, a devilish grin on his face. “Race you?” 

Nevermind the disgusting sea prunes, Zuko has found that he’s physically incapable of backing down from a challenge. He gets up, stretches leisurely as though he’s uninterested in such childish things, and saunters out of the fort. 

And then takes off towards the village. He can hear Sokka’s indignant shouts and Katara’s laughter behind him, but he just runs faster. His hood falls behind him, and he expects to feel the sun’s light warming his skin, fueling the hot core deep within his belly. 

And then Zuko realizes with a jolt that he feels nothing. Nothing at all. 

His muscles begin to ache, and a band is starting to tighten around his lungs. He slows down as black spots appear around his vision.

“Haha!” Sokka skids past him and barrels into the village. 

“Zuko? You okay?” Katara jogs up behind him and suddenly there’s a hand between his shoulders. 

“Yeah-“ he gasps out. “I just got really tired.” 

Katara frowns and inspects his face, like his covered scar will give her answers. 

“Okay,” she says, and keeps her arm tight under his shoulders. “Let’s get home.” 

By the time they stumble into the warm hut, the spots of black have expanded into a dark gray that obscure nearly his entire vision. 

“Zuko? Are you alright?” He hears Hakoda say. 

Something clinks, and then he’s being deposited on his bedroll and someone is pulling off his damp parka. 

“‘M fine.” He mumbles, waving a hand dismissively even as his head threatens to pound into the ground. “Just really tired. Just need some sleep.” 

Someone pulls a heavy fur over him, and a hand is pressing down on his forehead for a second, before it sweeps through his hair and is gone just as quick. 

“Okay, then,” Hakoda says, and he sounds far away. “Rest.”   
  


* * *

The sun grows colder and Zuko grows lethargic. He begins to sleep far past sunrise, and is down for the count far before dinner is ready. Hakoda usually has to shake him gently awake and get him to drink some broth. Some nights, he’s barely able to get his eyes open. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Katara asks in a hushed tone one night, as a storm rages on outside. Bato looks up from across the fire, where he’s playing Pai Sho with Sokka and raises an eyebrow. Zuko is already dead to the world, curled up under a heavy pile of blankets. They dragged his bedroll to the edge of the fire days ago, but the extra heat hasn’t made a difference. 

Hakoda sighs, glances over at the tuft of golden-black hair poking out from under the blankets. The boy hasn’t once firebent, hasn’t even said a word about it. Hakoda suspects he may not even know. Perhaps he should have told him. Would it have even made a difference?

“Have you noticed that as the sun is going down, Zuko gets tired?” He asks his daughter. Katara nods. 

“Zuko’s people have a connection to the sun. When the sun is further away, they can become ill.” Bato says, picking up a piece and placing it on the board. Sokka doesn’t even notice, as he’s fixing Hakoda with an intense stare. 

“The sun’s going to be gone soon.” He says in a small voice.

“Yes.” Hakoda confirms, and wishes he didn’t have to. 

“But, then, could he-“ Sokka’s eyes widen and his mouth clamps shut. He looks back down, his knuckles suddenly white around the piece he’s holding. 

Katara bursts into tears. 

“Is he going to die?” She wails. 

Like he said. One child with a set jaw and voice hoarse with disuse, the other with a throat raw from screaming. 

“I don’t know.” Hakoda says honestly. “We’re going to do everything we can to keep him warm and safe, though.” 

Sokka places a white lotus tile on the middle of the board. “He has to survive.” He says so quietly Hakoda can barely hear him. “He has to.”   
  


* * *

The sun disappears. 

Zuko disappears, too. 

He wakes in five-minute increments, if that, and is confused and lethargic any time he manages to stay conscious for more than a few seconds. Hakoda shoves most of his responsibilities off onto Bato in favor of constantly adding more wood to the fire and waiting for Zuko to blink open his eyes so that he can force some nutrients into the boy. 

Sokka and Katara drag their bedrolls flush against Zuko’s, and Hakoda finds them most mornings underneath his blankets, close together. 

But by the time the solstice rolls around, Zuko is barely able to open his eyes. Kanna kneels by him, checking his pulse, and shakes her head. Hakoda rubs his eyes hard and thanks Tui he thought to send the kids to Yura’s before Kanna checked up on him. 

“He’s not going to make it.” He says, hoarse. 

“I don’t think so.” Kanna says, pulling Zuko’s blankets back up over his shoulders. “His chi is so weak, Hakoda.” 

“How long?” Bato asks quietly. 

Kanna leans back on her heels. “A day or so.” 

Hakoda nods and doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth until his mother has left to help Sanna’s family with a feverish child. As the door shuts behind her, Hakoda falls directly against Bato’s chest. 

“I made a mistake.” He rasps out, staring at the dark hair that sticks out from under the blankets, the only part of the boy visible. “Bato, I fucked up.” 

Bato tightens his grip around him and rests his chin on top of his head. 

“No, you didn’t. You did what was compassionate. He was going to die either way, Koda.” 

“The kids are going to be-“ He chokes on his words. 

“The kids will understand why, when they’re older.” Bato says firmly.

Hakoda can barely breathe, just shuts his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at how shallowly the blankets rise and fall with Zuko’s breaths and turns into Bato’s chest. 

“I know,” Bato says softly. “It’ll be alright. It’ll be alright.”   
  


* * *

Zuko hasn’t moved in over a day. 

Dad hasn’t said anything is wrong besides his admission that the winter was making Zuko weaker, but Katara’s not stupid. Dad looked at his still form and shook his head when Katara asked if she should run and get Gran-gran. 

He’s given up. 

But she’s done losing people. She’s not losing anyone else. 

“Please, Zuko,” Katara whispers, slipping under his heavy blankets like she always does and finding his hand, holding it tight. Sokka is already on the other side of him. “Please, stay here. Stay with us. Please.”   
  


* * *

  
The green of the field is jarring, and Zuko has to blink several times before it registers fully in his eye. There’s a heat on all sides of him, pressing down golden and galvanizing. Zuko takes a deep breath in and listens to the flow of the river, feeling the hot core in his stomach spark. 

“I thought I said it wasn’t your time yet, child.” 

Zuko snaps his eyes open. It’s a woman, sitting on the bank- white robes, golden eyes that twist his stomach painfully, hair the same color- 

“Agni.” 

Zuko bows, even makes the odd movements he stopped doing ages ago. He doesn’t know how he knows her name, only that he does. 

“Rise and join me.” 

Zuko obediently sits at her feet and pushes away the odd feeling that he’s been here before. 

“What do you mean, ‘not my time’?” Zuko asks, peering into the clear water. His hair is loose around his face, and he’s still wearing the sleep tunic Sokka helped him change into weeks ago. Weird. 

The woman smiles at him, runs hot fingers over the odd golden piece of his hair. 

“You and I have met before.” She says. 

Zuko cocks his head. “Why don’t I remember?” He demands. “Why don’t I remember anything?” 

“My doing, I’m afraid.” She says lightly. “You have a destiny beyond your past. I did what was best.” 

Zuko stands and backs away, feeling a white-hot anger surge up. “How could you just take my memories? Who am I, even? Is Zuko my real name? D-did you _burn_ me-” 

The woman’s eyes flare a bright burning white, and Zuko stumbles backward, snapping his mouth shut. He falls into a kowtow, forehead on the ground. 

_Respect the spirits._

“I did not burn you.” She says, and her voice echoes. “I would never harm _any_ child of mine.”

A warm hand under his chin, lifting it up. Her eyes have returned to their familiar amber, and she kneels before him. 

“Rise.” She says again and Zuko does, trying his best to hide that he’s shaking. 

“What’s happening to me?” He whispers. “Why am I here?” 

Her face softens. 

“You are very ill, child. But you must fight. I have told you and I will tell you again, your fate lies in helping restore balance to the world, and your time has not yet come.”

“What am I supposed to do?” 

She touches a finger to his chest, and something fiery explodes in his belly, warming him to his fingertips. 

  
“Remember your inner flame, light-child, and know that I am always with you.” 

* * *

Hakoda is staring into the fire and trying to figure out how he’s going to get his children out from the pile they’re sleeping in when it comes time to remove the child’s body, when Zuko blinks open his eyes.

They glint golden in the firelight, and Hakoda can barely breathe as he moves around the fire. 

“Hi,” He says softly, kneeling down next to Sokka and reaching over to pull the blanket back from where it’s tucked over Zuko’s nose. “How do you feel?” 

“Had a really weird dream.” Zuko says, voice muddled and hoarse from disuse. 

It’s the most he’s said in weeks. 

“Oh? What was it about?” 

“Agni.” Zuko says, scrunching up his nose as Hakoda moves his hair back out of his face. “Told me I had stuff to do.” 

“You do.” Hakoda says. “Sokka has so much planned in the spring for you two. You have to fight.” 

Zuko sighs, like this annoys him, and leans into Hakoda’s hand. “She said that, too.” 

Hakoda half-smiles. “She sounds like she knows what she’s talking about.” 

Zuko’s eyes flutter shut again, and he burrows in closer to Sokka. “‘M tired.” He mumbles.

Hakoda pulls up the blankets again. “So sleep, child.”

Within a minute, he’s fast asleep against Sokka’s shoulder. 

* * *

Zuko wakes the next morning some time after breakfast. He sits up, blankets still wrapped around his shoulders, and blinks owlishly. Hakoda’s hands still from repairing one of Sokka’s spring tunics, and he barely dares to allow himself to hope. 

  
“I’m really hungry.” He announces to the hut. Katara drops her dolls with a cry and flings herself at Zuko.

  
“Why are you hugging me?” he complains, as Sokka comes in from the storeroom, stops dead at the sight of Zuko, sitting up and coherent, and immediately does the same with a loud yell. “I just said I was hungry.” 

“We have plenty of breakfast, Zuko.” Hakoda says, rising to get a bowl for him. “As much as you’d like.” 

Katara pulls back first, studying him with an analytical eye, red-rimmed with unshed tears. “You should let me braid your hair. It’s a mess.” She tells him. 

Zuko seems to consider this as he raises a shaky spoon to his mouth and swallows the porridge mechanically. “Okay.” He says.

Sokka squawks indignantly and moves back, staring at Zuko in horror. “You shouldn’t let her do that! It’s not _manly!_ ” 

Zuko looks at Sokka like he’s stupid, and Hakoda bites the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing when he realizes Katara has the exact same expression on her face, looking as murderous as a ten-year-old has any right to be. 

“It’s just a braid, Sokka, don’t be dumb.” Zuko tells him, and Katara squeals in delight as Zuko turns to let her brush and braid back his long hair. Sokka sighs in resignation and sits back down on the bedroll, filling Zuko in on everything he missed. 

Hakoda stays where he is on the other side of the fire, and lets the sound of the three children chattering wash away the anxiety settled deep in his stomach. He glances down at Kya’s pendant, bound to his wrist, and smiles slightly. 

She would have loved the boy. Hakoda is sure of it.   
  


* * *

  
The day the sun returns, it comes midday. 

It crests cold and white over the edge of the ocean for barely a few minutes. Zuko drags himself out of the hut, ignoring the heaviness that remains in his chest and weighs down his limbs. He sits on a bank of snow by the shore, drinking in the light pinks and oranges that faintly tint the black sky. He pulls his knees to his chest and closes his eyes, breathing deep. A faint warmth sparks in his stomach, and tears prick at his eyes before Zuko can stop them. 

Someone sits down next to him. Zuko opens his eyes and looks over. It’s Katara, staring at him, biting her lip as she does when she’s thinking. 

“What’s up?” He asks, resting his cheek on his knee. Katara tilts her head and reaches up to lightly touch the messy half-bun he threw his hair into. 

“I was just wondering,” She says. “How you would look with beads in your hair, like Dad.” 

Zuko grins and knows the warmth he feels flooding his chest is only partly due to the sun, already receding back into the sea. 

* * *

  
Half a world away, on an island in the middle of the sea, the Prince of the Fire Nation writes a letter. 

His younger brother, wrapped in the false trappings of a pretender king, cannot see past the end of his nose, and dismisses the Prince’s long-distance Pai Sho games. 

It’s only Pai Sho, after all. It isn’t dangerous. 

The Prince writes in careful imperial script, describing his moves to his friend, who lives in the woods at the edge of the Earth Kingdom. 

_The jasmine piece must be moved off the board; it has been deposed by the knotweed in the home port._

_I do wonder, old friend, if perhaps it has come time to utilize our long-forgotten white lotus tile._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	3. All Things Grow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko discovers a hidden talent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, Big Thanks to my beta, @agentcalliope (AO3 and tumblr!)
> 
> You may have noticed that the chapter count jumped from 10 to 14. This is because I have a condition known as “idiocy” and when I ACTUALLY wrote an outline I realized I needed at least four more chapters to tell the story I wanted to. The good news is that I have everything planned out!! For once!! God bless!! My one(shot)-and-done heart is quaking!!
> 
> A few more notes on the divergence:  
> Hakoda leaves the year before they find Aang for MAXIMUM hakodad and Zuko bonding  
> The kids’ ages in this chapter range from  
> Katara- 10-14  
> Sokka- 11-15  
> Zuko- 12-15 (technically 16 lol but homeboy don’t know shit about shit)

* * *

The warm summer sun shines through the open door of the hut, and Zuko is splayed out in the middle of the beam, stripped down to just his tunic. 

  
“Aren’t you cold, kid?” Hakoda steps over him with the fish Bato just prepared for dinner. 

“Absolutely not. I’ve never been so warm.” Zuko mumbles, eyes closed. He tips his head back further and sighs contentedly. 

“You should have been born a cat.” Hakoda tells him.

Zuko doesn’t even bother opening his eyes to declare: “Probably would have made my life easier.” 

Hakoda eyes the six-month old scar, still discolored and rough, but nearly healed, and internally agrees. He stoops down and coaxes the fire back to life, then stands to finish chopping fish for the stew. 

“So,” He starts, after a few minutes of silence. “How are lessons going?” 

Zuko flushes immediately and sits up facing the door. Hakoda rolls his eyes. Zuko’s left ear is bad and, judging by how he’s positioned himself, he’s deliberately trying to mishear Hakoda’s questions. He probably would get away with it, too, if Hakoda hadn’t been dealing with Sokka’s liberal interpretation of what constituted “following the rules” for the past eleven years. 

“Come help me with the stew?” He says loudly enough that Yura, across the way, probably heard it.

Zuko huffs, but gets up and grabs a paring knife. 

“Thanks.” Hakoda says. “How are lessons going?” 

“Fine.” Zuko says shortly. 

“Uh-huh. Anything you’d like to share?” 

The fire flares and Hakoda casually takes a step back. 

“I don’t _know_ why I knew where the Fire Nation Capital City was, but Kanna put it on the wrong island!” Zuko yells, throwing his hands up. 

Hakoda plucks the knife out of Zuko’s hands as it narrowly misses his shoulder. “Okay,” Hakoda says. “A couple deep breaths, there.” 

Zuko scowls but complies. The fire returns to its normal level. 

“What have I told you, what has Bato told you, a thousand times?” 

“No one’s going to hurt me, I’m safe. If I remember something, even if it’s scary, I should tell one of you, and it won’t change anything.” Zuko recites. 

“Good to see your brain still works!” Hakoda says cheerfully, handing him the knife back and gesturing towards the pot. “So, what else happened in lessons?” 

Zuko stares into the pot like he hopes it’ll swallow him whole. “Kanna said,” He mumbles. “Iwritelikeanimperial.” 

“Speak up, Zuko.” 

Zuko forces his eyes up, and levels Hakoda with a look that’s half-challenge and half-terrified. “She said I write like a Fire Nation Imperial. Like I’m a noble.” 

“Oh.” Hakoda says, and dumps the fish into the pot. “Is that all?” 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘IS THAT ALL’?” Zuko yells. The fire roars again. 

“I was worried you had disrupted the younger kids’ lessons, or something.”.

“Did you not hear me?” Zuko asks suspiciously. “What if I’m a noble? What if- what if I’m-” 

His breath is coming quick and stuttered, and six months has been more than enough time for Hakoda to learn what’s coming next, so he puts a gentle hand on Zuko’s right shoulder, guides him away from the fire, and sits him cross-legged on the floor.  
  
“Breathe.” He says quietly. “Breathe with me.” 

Zuko buries his head in his hands, and Hakoda waits until his shoulders stop shaking to say,  
  
“Zuko, when Bato and I found you, there hadn’t been Fire Nation ships here in years. You either came from the outer villages, or…” 

  
He cuts off. Kanna has insisted, over and over, that Zuko has a spirit guard, but Hakoda doesn’t know precisely how to navigate raising a child who’s spirit-touched, so he’s simply...avoided the issue. 

“Either way,” Hakoda moves on. “No matter what you remember, you are here, you are safe, and that isn’t going to change. I promise.” 

Zuko finally looks up. “Really?” He asks in a small voice. 

“Of course.” Hakoda says. “Besides, who else would Sokka harass to play warriors? Katara?” 

Zuko giggles, even though it’s a little wet. “She’d bury him in an avalanche.” He says. 

Hakoda laughs and stands, offering Zuko a hand up. “That, she would. Now come on, we have to finish dinner before Bato gets back with Sokka and Katara.” 

* * *

  
“I _still_ can’t believe you don’t know your own birthday. It’s so weird.” Sokka throws up his hands. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, let me just-” Zuko thumps his knuckles on his forehead. “-get my memories back for you so it stops being weird.” 

Katara laughs. It’s nearing dinner-time, but the sun shines bright. They’re holed up in their fort, Katara working on sewing a water-skin for herself, and Sokka attempting to show Zuko the proper way to carve a boomerang. 

“You could just pick one,” Katara reasons, thread between her teeth.

“You can’t just _pick_ a birthday!” Sokka says. 

“Why not?” Katara asks. “What’s the big deal? Zuko doesn’t know when he was born, so he doesn’t get to celebrate? That’s not fair!” 

“I guess not.” Sokka admits. “Alright, you should pick a birthday.” 

“Hm.” Zuko eyes Sokka. “When’s your birthday?” 

“Beginning of autumn.” He puffs out his chest. “I’m going to be twelve!” 

“So, a few months from now?” 

Zuko grins wickedly, and turns to Katara. “I think I’d like to celebrate on the summer solstice.” He announces. “I’m probably turning twelve, don’t you think?” 

“Oh yes,” Katara nods solemnly. “Definitely twelve.” 

“Zuko!” Sokka yells, outraged. “I’M older!” 

“Not anymore.” Zuko says.

“You little-” 

Sokka launches himself at him, and Zuko can barely contain his laughter as they go tumbling onto the snow-soft ground. 

* * *

  
Zuko eyes the anorak, with its somewhat clumsy stitching around the collar, before he eyes the child, tearing away from Sanna with a diabolical peal of laughter. 

“Panuk!” He calls out. “Be careful! It took me, like, four weeks to finish embroidering that for you!” 

Panuk only yells louder, and Sanna looks exhausted _,_ so Zuko puts down the spear he was sharpening for Bato, runs after the kid, and sweeps him up in his arms. Panuk giggles and reaches out to tug on his beads. 

  
“If you rip it,” Zuko tells him seriously, holding him out in front of his face. “I swear on Agni I will make you sit down and learn how to embroider. It’s not _easy,_ Panuk.” 

“Zu-zu.” Panuk says back, equally serious. 

Zuko sighs. “Come on, kid.” 

He settles Panuk on his hip and walks over to Sanna’s hut.

“Thank you, Zuko.” She says, holding her arms out. Zuko transfers Panuk over to her. 

“It’s no problem. I told him if he tears it he’s learning how to embroider.” 

“Little terror.” Sanna says fondly, pressing her nose to Panuk’s. “Between him and Aake, I can barely keep up these days.” 

“You can always drop him with me, if I’m just doing busy work with Kanna.” Zuko offers. The kids, for some reason, flock to him like penguins to a fish. He was annoyed at first, but has found that he doesn’t really mind the occasional toddler or three hanging onto his sleeve as he works. 

“I know,” Sanna says, smiling at him. “Thank you, Zuko.” 

Sanna takes the child inside, and Zuko heads back towards the hut, where his abandoned spear lays. 

“You really think you’re part of the tribe now, huh, little ashmaker?” 

Zuko stills. Iola is sitting outside his hut. The sleeves of his parka are pulled up, and the burns that mottle his aged skin are fully visible. 

“Sorry?” He asks politely. Hakoda and Bato told him to stay away from Iola, but he still has to be _respectful._ Iola’s an elder, and elders deserve respect. 

“I mean it. You’ve got everyone fooled, after only a year. You’re just waiting for the opportunity to burn this place to the ground, aren’t you?” 

“I-what, no-” 

“I’ll never understand why Hakoda didn’t kill you when he had the chance.” 

Zuko’s mouth has gone very dry, suddenly, and it’s difficult to see anything other than the white of the snow beneath his boots, the navy blue of his pants. 

When he had the chance. 

  
“ _Hey!”_ Katara’s voice snaps behind him. “Don’t talk to him that way!” 

“How _dare_ you disrespect your elder, child?” 

“You were being disrespectful first!” 

A small, steady hand closes around his wrist, and Zuko gets ripped out of his head. He shakes his heavy head, tries to focus on how Katara’s cold fingertips dig into his skin. 

“Katara,” he mumbles. 

“He didn’t do anything to you!” Katara says. “How could you be so cruel?” 

“Don’t go protecting him. He’ll only burn you.” Iola says. 

“No, he won’t! He’s my brother, he would never hurt me!” 

Brother. 

_Brother._

“Katara-” 

“Let’s go, Zuko.” 

She drags him by the arm into the hut, and slams the door, before throwing herself at him and wrapping her arms around his chest. “Iola’s terrible.” She says, muffled into his parka. 

“You shouldn’t have yelled at him.” Zuko says distantly. “You’re gonna get in trouble.” 

“I don’t _care.”_ She says fiercely. “He’s always so awful to you.” 

“Did you mean it?” Zuko asks hoarsely, before he can lose the nerve. 

Katara pulls back and looks at him, her expression soft. “Of course I did.” 

“Oh.” Zuko manages to choke out. “Okay.” 

“Is that okay?” 

Zuko nods, and pulls her back into a hug. He’s never been very good with words, so he hopes she gets what he’s trying to say through how tight he wraps his arms around her, grasps the back of her amauti between his fingers. “It’s okay.” He whispers.   
  


* * *

Zuko can hear the shouting before he gets an eye on Sokka and Katara. He sighs deeply, pulling his parka hood up and wondering how mad Bato would be if he just...didn’t get his siblings for dinner, and instead left them to their screaming match out on the plain. 

Probably pretty mad. 

“-don’t help with chores, you NEVER mend your own clothes, and now you’re telling me I need to finish gathering the berries?” Katara yells. 

“I’m trying to _train_ , Katara!” Sokka waves his boomerang in the air. “Dad said the Earth Kingdom needs help, and they might need warriors to go, and-“ 

Zuko winces; this is bound to last hours. They have _this_ particular argument at least once a week. 

“That doesn’t mean you can just drop everything and not _help!”_ Katara stomps her foot; Ice cracks near Sokka’s feet. 

“Katara-“ Zuko says, moving towards her with one hand out. 

“Zuko helps! _And_ he trains!” Katara gestures towards him, her wrist movement sharp. A loud whip-like sound booms through the air. Sokka, red-faced and furious, doesn’t even seem to notice. 

“Well, I’m sorry _I’m not Zuko!_ ” Sokka yells. 

“Me too!” 

Katara throws the basket she’s holding down at her feet and with a final _crack_ , the ground around Sokka shoots up and encases him in ice from the shoulders down. 

“Sokka!” Zuko scrambles forward. 

“Fuckin’ _waterbenders_.” Sokka growls, trying to push up. The ice apparently has no give, however, and he can barely move. 

Zuko tries to keep the long stream of curses readily available on his tongue at bay and turns back towards Katara. “C’mon, you’ve gotta get him out!” 

Katara is standing stock-still, ashy-faced, staring at her hands like she’s never seen them before. “I don’t-“ 

“Katara, you’ve gotta try.” Zuko says, glancing up. They’re well into his second autumn, and Zuko has gotten good at gauging timing for sunrises and sunsets. The sun is already low in the sky. Temperatures are going to drop, and _soon._

“O-okay,” she stutters, shaking herself slightly. She takes a deep breath, moves out her feet, and tries to melt the water. 

Nothing happens. 

“Don’t wanna alarm anyone,” Sokka says, teeth chattering. “But I’m getting kinda cold.” 

“Just hold on,” Zuko tells him. “Try again, Katara.” 

She nods, looking slightly more determined, and jerks up her wrists in a fluid motion. 

Nothing happens. 

“I don’t think- I don’t think I can do it!” Katara says, a note of hysteria in her voice. “I don’t know how-“ 

“Okay, okay-“ Zuko says, one hand out towards her. “We’ll figure it out, just stay calm.”

“I’m gonna go get Dad and Bato.” Katara says, and runs off towards the village. 

“That’s gonna take too long.” Zuko mutters, eyeing the sinking sun. 

“You’re telling _me_ ,” Sokka says. “I can’t feel my legs.” 

“Dramatic.” Zuko says. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, this coming from the guy who cried when Katara was telling the story of Tui and La to the kids last week?” 

Zuko flushes. “It’s _sad_ , Sokka, they’re in love and they can’t ever be together-“

“Zuko.” Sokka says, groaning. “I’d genuinely rather stay frozen in this ice than listen to you rant about this again. You know the spirits aren’t real, right?” 

Zuko scoffs, is far too familiar with his brother’s self-proclaimed atheism to be surprised. “Where do you think bending comes from, Sokka?” He asks, sitting down on the ice next to him. 

“Dunno,” Sokka says, as airily as someone currently trapped in a block of ice can manage to be. “But there has to be some explanation we don’t know yet. Or, my favorite, it’s just-“

“Magic, yeah, yeah, I know.” Zuko finishes for him. He tips his head back, closing his eyes as the setting sun grants him one last vestige of warmth deep in his belly. He breathes deep and allows it to spread all the way to his fingertips. 

And then snaps his eyes open. 

_Remember your inner flame._

“Sokka,” Zuko says, heart pounding. “I’m gonna try something. Don’t freak out.” 

“What are you gonna try?” Sokka asks. “Gonna use your skinny arms to bust me out of here?” 

“Something like that.” Zuko says distractedly. He closes his eyes again and focuses on the heat in his stomach, imagines it running along his chi paths, gathering heat and power and bursting out, and-

“What the _fuck?_ ” Sokka screeches. 

Zuko opens his eyes. A small flame hovers over the tip of his finger, weak and orange and red and- _there_. It feels so _right,_ like an extension of his hand, like taking a deep breath after being underwater, and he grins, exhilarated, in spite of Sokka’s incoherent yelling. 

“You’re a _fir_ _ebender?”_

“Yeah,” Zuko answers distantly, mesmerized by the small flame. “Guess so.” 

“How long-“

“My whole life.” 

“So you can’t remember shit about your past, but you can suddenly remember how to, I dunno, _summon flames?”_

Zuko shrugs and takes a deep breath, allowing the flame to jump higher and burn hotter. “I think,” he says slowly. “I think I always knew. I think I was scared.”

“I’d be scared, too.” Sokka admits.

The sun finishes sinking below the horizon, and the change is immediate. Sokka shivers involuntarily. 

“I’m gonna try and melt the ice. Don’t move.” Zuko tells him.

“Don’t burn me,” Sokka warns him. 

Zuko rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother responding, just focuses on getting the flame to coat his palm, steady and hot, and holds it to the ice surrounding Sokka’s feet. After a few minutes of melting, the ice is thin enough that Sokka can kick his feet through, and Zuko moves to melt patches around his back and upper legs, instead. 

“Okay,” he says, after a while. “Let’s try now.”

Sokka plants his feet, and Zuko pulls on his shoulders. The ice breaks with a final sharp sound, and Sokka falls forward onto Zuko. Zuko throws him off, and they lay on the snow for a minute, Zuko trying to get his breath back under control, staring up at the emerging stars. 

And then Sokka starts to giggle. “You’re a firebender.” He says, running a soaked, mittened hand down his face. “My brother’s a _firebender._ ” 

“It’s not funny.” Zuko moans. 

“It _so is-“_ Sokka laughs, and something hitches in Zuko’s throat, and suddenly, he’s laughing too. 

It’s a deep belly laugh, born of fear and relief and sheer hysteria. 

“Oh,” Zuko says, trying to get a hold of himself. “This is so bad.” 

Sokka laughs harder. 

“Over here, that’s where I left them!” 

Zuko sits up. Katara is hurrying towards them, Hakoda and Bato behind her carrying blankets and torches. 

“You got him out.” Katara says, skidding to a stop on the ice. “How’d you get him out?” 

Sokka shivers again in the snow, lets out another loud laugh. “He’s a firebender. Zuko melted the ice with his _fire._ ” 

Zuko is frozen where he sits, forced to watch Katara’s grateful expression melt into shock, and then again into anger. 

“You-“ she asks, voice small. “Show me.” 

Zuko can’t say no. Can’t disobey. He lifts one shakey finger and allows the flame to reappear, now small and weak. It flickers out within seconds. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. 

“Zuko-“ Hakoda steps forward, and Zuko’s heart ratchets up, leaving nothing in his awareness but a dull roar in his ears and a bitter taste in his mouth. The fire in the torch Hakoda’s holding rises high and heated, and Zuko realizes, with crystal, terrifying, clarity, that he’s doing it. 

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry!” He yells, scrambling backwards. 

“Zuko!” Bato says, sharp, and Katara looks like she’s a few seconds away from burying him in an avalanche, and the blood pumping through his heart is screaming, _run, run, run-_

So he does.   
  


* * *

Hakoda stares at the retreating figure of the boy and clenches his jaw tight. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, kneeling next to Sokka, who’s soaking wet and shivering. 

“Y-yeah.” Sokka says. “Zuko didn’t hurt me, I swear, Dad-” 

“I didn’t think he did, Sokka. Are you cold?” 

“S-sort of.” 

He turns to his daughter, who’s looking out over the frozen tundra with a stoney face. “Katara, go with Bato, get Sokka home and warmed up.” He says in a tone that leaves no room for arguments. Of course, this is Katara, so she argues regardless. 

“But-“

“ _Now._ ”

“Zuko’s a _firebender-_ “ She says, and the stone dissolves into tears, terrified and heartbroken. 

Hakoda sighs and presses his daughter into a quick hug before stooping down to look her in the eye. 

“I’ve known Zuko was a firebender since we found him. All of the adults in the village know. We believe there’s a reason he’s here, though we don’t know it yet.” 

“A r-reason?” 

“We can talk about this later. I promise I will explain everything. For now, you need to get Sokka home, and I need to go find him before it gets too late.”

* * *

It’s actually not hard to find the boy. Something in his gut leads Hakoda to a familiar small cave, north of the village. Hakoda purposefully stomps loudly as he gets close to the mouth of the cave, and raps his knuckles on the stone entrance. 

Zuko is huddled in the back, knees drawn to his chest, and he startles at the loud sound. 

“Can I join you?” Hakoda asks. “It’s pretty cold out here.” 

Zuko doesn’t say anything, but doesn’t attempt to sprint away, either, so Hakoda takes that as a positive and comes into the cave and sits down a few feet away. Zuko is suddenly allergic to eye contact, and it all feels so familiar to how he was two years ago, all awkward, stilted conversation and jumping at every sound. 

“You mind building a fire?” Hakoda asks, faux-casually. 

That surprises Zuko enough that he looks up at Hakoda, eyes narrowed. “You- you knew.” 

“Since we found you.” Hakoda says. “I want to tell you something that you might already know, but first, I’d love to get that fire going.” 

Zuko shakes his head slightly, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, but gets up to gather sticks from the back of the cave anyways.   
  


* * *

Hakoda stares into the flames of the fire, reflecting on the gold of Zuko’s eyes, Zuko’s hair, and takes a deep breath. 

“You’ve always been connected to fire, Zuko. I think you’ve always known you were, too.” Hakoda says.

Zuko looks only at the opposite wall, jaw clenched tight. 

“When we found you, you were dressed only in a white tunic, and your burn was- it was terrible. We didn’t think you were going to make it. It was so cold, and you were so little.”

“But I did.” Zuko says. 

Hakoda nods. “You weren’t even sick from the cold. Gran-gran took one look at you and said you were spirit-touched.” 

“Spirit-touched?” Zuko echoes. He reaches up and lightly touches his gold hair. 

“Yes. She believes a spirit is the reason you’re here. And the reason you survived, then, and through that first winter.”

“Which-“ Zuko clears his throat. “Which spirit?” 

Hakoda shrugs. “I have my suspicions. But I think you know better than me.” 

Zuko stares deep into the fire, and, without flinching, reaches one hand in and pulls out a flame. Hakoda swallows his shock as the flame dances over his palm, Zuko’s face betraying nothing. “Agni.” Zuko says quietly. “I’ve had dreams.” 

The Water Tribes do not worship the Sun, but they would be naive to not at least have an appreciation for it. The Sun patronizes the Fire Nation, the whole world is aware of that much, but she also provides for everyone else. Between his abilities, his skin, his _hair,_ there is not much use in continuing to deny Zuko's heritage, his clear patronage. 

“I thought you might have.” Hakoda says. 

Zuko looks up, allowing the flame to extinguish, and his eyes are wide and shiny. 

“Why- why did you keep me, if you knew? I’m a _firebender-_ “ he spits out the word like it’s turned to ash in his mouth. 

“Every adult in the village is aware of that fact.” Hakoda says. 

“Then why-“ 

“Zuko.” Hakoda interrupts softly, as tears run down the child’s face. “You’ve never hurt anyone. You help and you care for the younger children. Yura adores you, Tulok loves you. Sokka and Katara would be lost without you. You’re a part of this community. A part of my family.” 

Zuko sobs. 

Hakoda sighs and moves around the fire, putting an arm around Zuko’s shoulder and pulling him in tight. 

“Why am I here?” He gasps out between sobs. “What if I hurt someone? What if-“ 

“You won’t.” Hakoda says firmly. “You’ve proven that over and over for two years. I wish I had the answers for you, but I don’t know why the spirits brought you here. Time tells all things. And until then, you’ll remain here. Safe.” 

“Why-why didn’t you _kill me when you had the chance?”_

“You were a child, Zuko. You still are.” 

“I’m dangerous.” 

“So is my spear.” Hakoda says. “So are Bato’s darts. So is Sokka’s boomerang, so is Katara’s waterbending, as we saw tonight. Every person has the potential to do great harm and great good, no matter their blood or born abilities. There isn’t anything bad about having that potential, Zuko. It’s about how you choose to use it.” 

Zuko is silent for a long while, before he tips his head against Hakoda’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry, anyways.” He whispers. 

“You have nothing to apologize for. You saved Sokka tonight. Just like Katara, all I ask is that you control your bending.”

“I will.” He says. “I promise.” 

“I know.” Hakoda squeezes him tight. “I know you will.” 

* * *

Zuko throws the boomerang with a sharp flick of his wrist, and it darts directly through the two tree branches with precision. 

“Not bad, I guess.” Katara muses from the rock she’s sitting on, a ball of water in between her hands. 

Zuko turns to glare at her. “You try throwing a boomerang with one good eye.” He says, holding up a hand to catch the returning boomerang. 

“I’d rather figure out how to do _this.”_ She says, as the water drops out of her hands and she groans in frustration. Sokka, lounging next to her, opens his mouth, but Katara clamps a hand over it. “If you say one word, I’ll bury you in ice again.” She growls. 

Zuko snorts as Sokka’s eyes go wide. 

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.” Sokka says, pulling her hand off. “Just that bending is _so_ hard, and you’ll figure it out.” 

Katara rolls her eyes, but takes her stance again. Her feet are too close together, and she’s clearly not focused, by the way she keeps opening one eye to glare at Sokka. 

“I think, if you spread your feet out-“ Zuko demonstrates, planting his feet in the snow. “And pull your shoulders back, take a few deep breaths, and then kind of-“ he pulls a flame out of the air and lets it dart across his fingers. 

“That’s _firebending,_ Zuko.” She says in the same patient tone she uses when Panuk or Aake answer a tribal history question incorrectly during lessons. It had taken Katara a few days, and several tearful conversations with Hakoda and Zuko, to come to terms with Zuko’s new-found bending, but once she had, she seemed determined to normalize it the only way she knew how: by making fun of him. Zuko has begun practicing with her, rising before breakfast to sit in the sun, allowing his body to follow movements he didn’t remember learning. 

“I’m well aware, thank you.” Zuko says dryly. “But it’s bending, so maybe some of the principles are similar? You might as well try it.” 

Katara huffs, but spreads her feet apart and takes a deep breath, before she slowly moves her hands up and out. A heap of snow follows her movement and slams directly into Sokka’s face. She whoops in excitement as Sokka splutters indignantly. 

“I did it!” She yells, rushing forward to hug Zuko and knocking her bony elbows into his ribs. “I’ve never moved that much before!” 

Zuko grins as she lets go and tries again, managing to move a moderate amount of snow a few feet. 

“That’s amazing, Katara!” He says.

Sokka just groans and drags his hands down his face to move the snow out of his eyes. “You’re just making it _easier_ for her to bury me in ice again!”

* * *

Like he does every so often, Tulok takes Sokka and Zuko out to the northern caves. They climb to the flat rocks atop, wrapped in the warmest parkas they can find, and tilt their heads up at the bright stars dotting the dark skies. 

“That one is called Kuruk’s Spear.” Tulok says, pointing straight up. “The bright star on the point will help you navigate south.”

“Helpful for sailing, right?” Sokka asks. Tulok props himself up on one elbow and gives him a look. 

“Yes,” Tulok says, eyes narrowed. “But not for pups who haven’t even _passed their ice trials.”_

Sokka flops back down. “I’m old enough.” 

“And I’m older.” Zuko adds quietly. 

“By _three months_ -“

“And what about it?” 

“That’s enough.” Tulok says sharply. The last time he yelled at either of them was the first time Sokka waved his boomerang around, not realizing Zuko was right behind him, and nearly cut him. It’s jarring enough that they both settle down immediately. “I’m the youngest going, and I’m nineteen. Amaruq is 20. You two _have_ to stay home.” 

“Why?” Sokka asks. “When does the Fire Nation realize they haven’t subjugated us yet and show up on our shores?” 

“I don’t know, but I can tell you this. Your dad answered the call from the Earth Kingdom for a reason. There’ve been... rumors, that the Fire Nation isn’t as stable as it has been.” 

“What kind of rumors?” Zuko asks. He reaches up and ghosts his fingers along the edges of his scar; it’s as rough and ragged as it always is. 

“Dunno, exactly,” Tulok says. “Apparently, their crown prince was killed a few years back. Caused a lot of unrest in the country.” 

Something hot and unsettling moves down Zuko’s throat and comes to a stop in his stomach. “Do you know anything else?” He asks urgently.

Tulok shrugs. “Nah. Just that the Earth Kingdom seems to think that if we get a force strong enough now, we have a better chance at an invasion than before. Doesn’t really matter, for you two.” He says seriously, fixing Zuko with a serious gaze. “I mean it. Stay home and keep the village safe. Don’t try anything stupid.”

Zuko catches Sokka’s eye over Tulok’s shoulder, and the determined expression on his face makes it clear that absolutely nothing Tulok said has sunk in. He nods slightly, and Sokka turns away. 

They’re definitely going to try something stupid.   
  


* * *

  
The day the fleet leaves, Zuko sits deathly still as Sokka paints his face in wolf-greys, pitch-blacks, and then, with equal precision, Zuko cuts the same shapes onto Sokka’s. 

Everyone is busy loading up the ships, saying tearful goodbyes, so no one notices the two slip out behind the villages with bags slung over their shoulders, weapons in their hands, and onto the deck of one of the smaller ships. 

That is to say, no one notices until they do. 

“What are you two doing?” A voice says behind them, hands closing around the collar of their parkas. 

“Nothing.” Zuko says, trying to deepen his voice. “Chief Hakoda asked us to load some last-minute supplies onto the-” 

“Don’t bullshit me, Zuko.” 

They get swung around rather unceremoniously. Tulok has one eyebrow raised, his head tilted like he’s not surprised, just disappointed. “I don’t remember hearing either of you called up at the ceremony yesterday.” 

“Oh, uh, Dad changed his mind last night!” Sokka says airily. “He said that actually, Zuko and I _were_ old enough to go, and that it was no problem.” 

“Right.” Tulok says. “You definitely weren’t trying to sneak on and stay hidden long enough that it wouldn’t make sense to turn around and drop you off, right?” 

“No?” Sokka squeaks. 

Tulok hisses something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like _dumbass idiot boys, only half a brain between them-_ but Zuko can’t hear all that well, so maybe he was actually saying _what brave boys, I would have done the same._

“What’s going on, Tulok?” 

“Oh, shit.” Sokka mutters. 

“Found something that belongs to you, Chief.” Tulok says, and turns them around so they’re facing Hakoda, in full armor, wolf’s teeth in a permanent impressive snarl around his equally unimpressed face. 

“That, you did.” Hakoda says, crossing his arms. “I’ll take it from here. Thanks, Tulok.”  
  


Tulok grunts and gives each of them a half-affectionate, half-irritated slap on the back of the head before he heads down the deck. Hakoda says nothing for a scarily long time, just stares at them both. Zuko is starting to feel a long-suppressed panic rise in his stomach when he finally speaks. “I told you both, _multiple times,_ that you couldn’t come.” 

“But we’re fourteen, Dad! That’s old enough to fight!” 

“Neither of you have even passed your ice trials yet.” 

“That’s only because you won’t _let_ us, I know you were fourteen-” 

“I was sixteen, so was Bato, and so was your mother, Sokka. Enough.” Hakoda snaps, and Sokka goes silent. “This is a war, not a game.” 

“I know.” Zuko says.

Hakoda turns to him, surprised.

“I know this isn’t a game. But we’re not kids. I’m not a kid. I don’t think I’ve been a kid since I got, whoever did this to me.” He gestures up at his healed scar, and watches Hakoda flinch. 

“I want to help.” He continues. “I need to help.” 

Zuko doesn’t say, 

_Because I’m a firebender._

Or, 

_Because I look like the man who murdered Kya, and I never met her, but Katara cries herself to sleep every night around the week it happened_. 

Or, 

_I’m scared I’m somehow connected to every terrible thing that is happening._

But he tilts his head up and sets his jaw, and looks Hakoda straight in the eyes, and hopes he understands. Hakoda sighs, and stoops down so he’s looking at them both. 

“Listen to me carefully, both of you.” he says quietly, as men bustle around them, yelling and throwing supplies into the hold. “This is not a matter of how brave you are, or how capable you are, or what you think you owe me or the tribe. This is a war, and it is a war that my father and my father’s father fought and bled for. I pray every night that it won’t touch either of you and that your children will know peace, but I can’t control that. What I can control is how long I can keep you both safe, and keep Katara safe. She’s a waterbender.” 

“We know that. What does that have to do with anything?” Sokka says impatiently. 

Zuko’s blood has begun to run cold with the inference, however, and he swallows thickly. 

“Sokka,” Hakoda says heavily. “She’s a _waterbender._ We have been so fortunate to have not had any raids in years, but if the Fire Nation comes back to the village, and they find her- “ 

He cuts off.

Sokka has gone very still next to Zuko. “Oh.” He lets out, strangled. 

“Your sister is not weak or helpless, and she’d protect all of you until she couldn’t anymore, but if it comes down to her against a ship of Fire Nation soldiers-“

“We won’t let that happen,” Zuko says suddenly, fiercely. “ _Never._ ” 

“I know you won’t.” Hakoda says softly. “But that’s why I need you to stay. She needs your help. Can I trust you both to do that for me?” 

Sokka nods as Zuko tries to hide that his eyes have gone shiny with tears, and Hakoda pulls them both into a tight, bone-crushing hug. 

“Be safe,” He whispers into their hair. “Be safe, keep your sister safe, be good to each other. I love you all so much.” 

He doesn’t promise to return, but Zuko holds on tight anyways. 

* * *

They sit on a bank of snow, Katara between them, and watch the sea until the ships disappear completely over the horizon. 

  
“What if he never comes back?” Katara asks quietly. Zuko snakes an arm around her shoulders at the same time Sokka drops a kiss to her head.

“We’ll see them again.” Zuko says with a confidence he doesn’t at all feel. “I promise, Katara.” 

* * *

_ONE YEAR LATER_

The midnight sun shines warm and bright on Zuko’s face as he tips his head back to get the most of it. 

“If you go any farther, you’re gonna tip this boat over.” Katara warns, menacingly flicking up ice-cold arctic water onto his cheek.

Zuko wipes it off and opens one eye to lazily glare at her, but doesn’t bother with a response. 

“Maybe we’d actually catch some fish that way.” Sokka says from the front of the boat. “Use Zuko as bait.” 

“I’m too spicy for the fish.” Zuko hums, stretching. “Should use you, instead.”

“Are you calling me _bland-_ ” 

“Yes.” Zuko says, pushing up his sleeves and tilting his head in challenge towards his brother. 

“Maybe you two idiots are talking too loudly, and that’s what’s scaring the fish away.” Katara says. 

Zuko considers blowing smoke in her face, but glances at the ice and water surrounding them on all sides, and decides he values his life, so he instead closes his eyes and basks in the unparalleled luxury that is _sunlight._

He must have dozed off, because when he startles awake to shouting, they’re in an entirely different part of the inlet, and their boat is being pulled along a current far faster than Sokka could ever manage with his oars. 

“What the hell is _hap-“_ Zuko yells, but gets cut off as the boat hits an ice floe and they’re all thrown out. Zuko hits the cold ice hard, and is still rubbing a sore spot on his shoulder when Sokka says, 

“Well, now you’ve gone from weird to freakish, Katara.” 

Zuko gives him a murderous look, but Sokka seems determined to get a rise out of their sister. 

“How is this _my_ fault?” She yells, scrambling up. 

“Dunno,” Sokka says. “But we should have just left you in the village. Leave it to a _girl_ to screw things up.” 

The air immediately cools ten degrees, and Zuko hauls himself up and puts himself in front of Katara, hands out, resolving to smother Sokka to death in his sleep tonight. 

“Hey, Katara-“

“I am SO sick of you! You immature, _lazy-”_ Katara screams. The floe rocks with every stomp of her foot, and a fissure _cracks_ through the ice. 

“Katara-” Zuko warns again, following the crack in the ice up to a massive blue iceberg floating in front of them. 

“-Dad left, and you're still off playing _warriors_ , and leaving me to do _all the work!”_

The crack reaches the iceberg, and suddenly, a dark figure becomes apparent, with bright arrows around the head. 

“What the fuck-” Zuko says under his breath.

Two bright orbs flash open under the arrow. 

“What the _fuck.”_ Sokka agrees. 

“Someone’s in there!” Katara gasps. “We have to go help!”

“Katara, what if it’s not safe?” 

“ _They need help!”_ She leaps off the floe, ice appearing under her feet as she runs towards the iceberg.

Zuko sighs and runs his hand over his scar, before turning to his brother. “Nice going, dumbass. ‘ _Leave it to a girl’?_ ” 

“Shut up.” Sokka says verbosely, before they chase after Katara. 

By the time Zuko reaches her, she’s planted her feet deep, and has two hands on the iceberg, pulling it apart. “Help me.” She grunts.

Zuko eyes the dark figure, still unmoving, and then at the determined look on Katara’s face, before he pulls off his mittens and begins melting the ice. After a few seconds of Katara breaking the ice, and Zuko melting it, the iceberg cracks directly down the middle, filling with a blinding glow. A blue beam of light shoots straight up into the sky, brilliant and bright, and they’re thrown back onto the snow. 

It dissipates after a moment, and a boy slides down the ice, dressed in oranges and yellows. Katara scrambles forward to catch him. She lays him against the ice, and Zuko takes in the bald head, the blue arrows that follow his chi paths down his arms, his forehead. 

_Master Airbender tattoos,_ he notes faintly. 

All the airbenders are dead. 

The boy’s eyes snap open, glowing a massively bright white-blue that’s oddly familiar to Zuko, before they revert back to a dark gray. 

“Are you okay?” Katara asks urgently. 

“Come...closer..” The boy rasps out.

Katara frowns and moves in. Sokka gets a tighter grip on his boomerang. 

“Wanna go penguin-sledding with me?” 

Well, not all of them. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is @ta1k-less so feel free to yell at me there!! Or here!! I’m not picky!!
> 
> Also: I got some questions about the pai sho in the last chapter. All I can say is u may want to look up the rules for pai sho :))


	4. Izumi Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Izumi, commander of the Royal Guard like her mother and mother's mother before her, has seen many things in her twenty years of service, and said nothing about any of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate ch summary: meanwhile, back on the ranch-
> 
> as always, thank you very much to my lovely beta @agentcalliope (ao3 and tumblr) who is TRULY the only reason I know what tf im doing on this story!!!
> 
> anyways, an extra cw for child abuse this chapter. (its zuko yall. what did u expect)

* * *

**Now Playing at the Ember Island Theater**

_Love Amongst the Dragons_

The classic and thrilling tale of forbidden love, now set in a contemporary context

_dir. Kuzon of Nara_ , _starring Zhu Li Nori, Okura Tatsuo_

_East of Esashi_

When the son of a prominent Earth Kingdom crime syndicate leader publicly speaks out against his father’s plans to destroy a defenseless Fire Nation colony, the consequences are earth-shattering

_dir. Tamaki Shin, starring Kanda Avaron, Ida Jiro_

_Tickets available for pre-sale or at the door._

* * *

  
  


On the first day the Fire Lord deigned to make a public appearance after the mourning period for his only son had passed, the sun did not shine. 

Fire Lord Ozai stepped out onto the dais, in full regalia, and clouds drifted over the bright sun until it was fully overcast. 

That’s when the murmurings started.

Captain Izumi, Commander of the Royal Guard like her mother and her mother’s mother before her, is not foolish enough to admit that she even hears the mutterings, let alone participate in them. After all, they’ve been pledging allegiance to the Fire Lord since they were born. To even have the appearance of loyalties laid elsewhere is tantamount to treason. 

And to commit treason in the Fire Nation? Well, it would be better to be dead. 

Luckily, Izumi is an expert in appearances- or lack thereof. She’s been blending into the background of the Royal Palace for nearly twenty years. 

Prince Zuko- may Agni’s perpetual light shine upon him- was born in the middle of a winter’s night. An inauspicious sign, for any firebender, but a harbinger for a child born of the line of Sozin. Izumi stood silent watch inside the room as Ursa screamed and cried, and eventually gave birth to a wee thing, all pale skin and dark tufts of hair. 

Izumi stayed silent as a hush fell over the room, when the child refused to breath. As Ursa cried out for mercy on her son. As the child eventually took a shallow breath and let out a weak wail, and Ursa collapsed in relief. 

Izumi stayed silent as Ozai swept into the room, took one look at his son, and said coldly, 

“He has no spark.” 

“You- you don’t know that, Ozai,” Ursa said desperately. “Not all firebenders spark at birth.“

“I should have known better than to allow the bloodline to be muddled by an _actress_ ,” Ozai spat back. “He is useless to me.” 

“He is your _son-"_

“A nonbender is no child of mine.” Ozai said, and reached for the child as Ursa went pale. 

Izumi even stayed silent as Ursa begged and pleaded for succor, saying the child might have a spark, still, and to _please, have mercy_ \- 

Izumi stayed silent, until Ozai finally gave in, and swept out of the room, the child unharmed. Ursa rocked him in her arms, and looked up at Izumi, eyes glassy and unfocused. 

“Zuko,” Ursa said. “I’m going to name him Zuko. What do you think, Captain?” 

It seemed almost cruel- a fiery name for a weak babe. 

“It’s a very strong name, Lady Ursa.” 

“And kind, as well. Strong and kind, my little prince.” Ursa said, and pressed the child to her chest. “Zuko. Prince Zuko.” 

And so Izumi melded back into her surroundings. 

She was a silent fixture at the child’s consecration to Agni, as he learned to toddle around the garden, as he sounded out “mama” for his mother, and “Zuzu” for his newborn sister, and nothing for his father until he was able to address him with perfect diction. She stood at several of his firebending lessons, when he finally showed a weak spark around age six. Izumi saw the burns that appeared on the child’s wrists, the tear streaks that stained his cheeks, whenever his father happened to attend as well. And she stayed silent. 

She was stationed outside the Prince’s room when Lady Ursa disappeared, when Fire Lord Azulon died in his sleep, when Ozai rose to the throne, all in one night. She heard the child’s confused cries, his sobbing for his mother, who never reappeared. She heard the Fire Lord refuse to speak of her, and hoped that the Lady was dead. It was a kinder fate than many others that could have befell her. 

* * *

  
  


Prince Zuko fell from a tree when he was eleven years old. 

Izumi, stationed right outside the door to the courtyard, heard the harsh yells, followed by a _crack_ and the much higher, sharp cry of a child, before Ozai strode past her and wrenched open the door into the palace. The door slammed behind him. Izumi immediately pulled up her visor, signaled for Kaito, stationed next to her, to stay where he was, and hurried into the garden. 

The little prince sat pale under the tree, his arm held uselessly in his lap. He looked up and met her with panic-blown eyes. His lip trembled as he said, with as much confidence as an eleven-year-old in clear pain could manage, 

“I-I fell from the tree.” 

Izumi crouched in front of him and gently moved up the sleeve of his bending practice tunic, as he took a sharp breath. The bone was clearly broken, his forearm already swelling. The red mark of a hand a few degrees too hot wrapped around the break. 

“I know, Prince Zuko,” Izumi said softly.

The prince tried to stand and the movement jostled his arm. He gasped in a shallow breath and let out a sob. 

“Don’t tell Azula,” he begged, gritting his teeth as Izumi pulled off her sash and fashioned it into a make-shift sling. “Don’t tell Uncle. Please.” 

Izumi knotted the sling around the boy’s neck. 

“There is nothing to tell. ” She said. “Come, let’s get you to a healer.” 

Izumi was a woman of her word, so she didn’t say anything when he refused pain medication as the bone was set. As he cried silently through a cast being wrapped around his arm. 

As he repeated the blatant lie to the physician, and to his sister, and to his uncle. 

* * *

It couldn’t be called an Agni Kai. 

This much, Izumi could admit to. 

In an Agni Kai- a sacred ceremony, in the eyes of Agni, to settle matters of honor- the participants must be equals, must be at least sixteen. 

Must have committed some slight against the other that must be answered for. 

To watch the Fire Lord tower over his twelve year-old son, prostrate on the stone, his shoulders shaking in fear, and command him to rise and fight- _he’s only a child, he hasn’t even been declared a master, it’s not fair-_ could not even be considered in the realm of sacred, and to think so would be a blasphemy, she is sure the Fire Sages would tell her. 

_Agni loves her children,_ Izumi repeats under her breath as Ozai advances towards his son, who is now openly weeping. _She loves them, and does not want to see them hurt._

To watch the Fire Lord set his son aflame- to listen to his screams, his begs for mercy, and only hold tighter, his flames burn hotter, to stand watch in the infirmary as the burned skin grew infected and died and sloughed off, as the child drowned in fever, as Prince Iroh begged the spirits for mercy, and to watch him receive none of it. To stand silent as they wrapped the small, lifeless body up in white, and to watch the smoke from his pyre rise up into the cloudless sky- no, that was not an Agni Kai. 

That was a public filicide.   
  


* * *

_Setting: Taro family headquarters, Omashu. HIKARI kneels on the ground by the fireplace, hands bound in front of him._

_Ent. RYŪ stage right_

**HIKARI**

Please, Father, I am your loyal son. I meant no disrespect. 

**RYŪ**

( _advancing forward, earthbending hot coals from the fireplace)_

You dared to question me, in front of my lieutenants? 

**HIKARI**

I wanted only what was best for our family, Father, please believe me. 

**RYŪ**

What is best for our family, is your devotion to me, above all else. 

_(RYŪ presses the hot coals to HIKARI’S face. HIKARI screams.)_

_End scene._

* * *

  
  


Prince Iroh withdrew after the Crown Prince’s funeral. To be expected, Yao told Izumi briskly as she kneaded bread for dinner. After the death of his son, Prince Lu Ten, Iroh hardly spoke for months. 

He wandered the halls a specter, eyes perpetually red and glassy, gait unsteady. 

In contrast, the Princess grew louder. She often set her clothes aflame if they did not meet her expectations, and went through four governesses in a week. Her flame turned blue for the first time when she threw fire at a maid who had failed to turn down her bed correctly. 

It was a wonder the two met at all. But Izumi stands silent as Iroh takes his niece to the garden for tea and Pai Sho. 

“It’s a waste of time, and you’re a foolish old man.” Princess Azula says sharply. 

“Perhaps,” Iroh says neutrally. “But, my niece, Pai Sho is a game of strategy, and I have many years of experience in military strategy. It may be useful for you to learn.“

“What could you know of strategy?” The Princess sneers. “You, who couldn’t even break the walls of Ba Sing Se, all because your _son_ died. How useless-“

“Princess Azula.” Iroh interrupts sharply. “It is not a failing to mourn the loved ones we have lost.” 

Princess Azula blinks. 

“Father said love is for children. It makes you weak.” 

Iroh places a jasmine piece on the board. 

“Your father believes that, certainly, but it is better to be weak in love than strong in detachment.” 

Azula cocks her head at the piece he’s placed on the board. 

“That’s an advantageous first position.” She says. 

“I thought you didn’t know how to play?” 

Azula shrugs. 

“Zuko taught me.” She says, and places a rose piece on the board. 

“And he taught you well.” Iroh says softly. 

It is the first of many meetings. They sit in the garden, with Izumi at the door, and play Pai Sho, steaming cups of jasmine by their hands. The Prince grows louder, and the Princess, quieter. 

* * *

**This week at the Ember Island Theater**

_Love Amongst the Dragons_

The classic and thrilling tale of forbidden love, now set in a contemporary context

_dir. Kuzon of Nara,_ _starring Zhu Li Nori, Okura Tatsuo_

~~_East of Esashi_ ~~

~~When the son of a prominent Earth Kingdom crime syndicate leader publicly speaks out against his father’s plans to destroy a defenseless Fire Nation colony, the consequences are earth-shattering~~

~~_dir. Tamaki Shin, starring Kanda Avaron, Ida Jiro_ ~~

_Rise of the Phoenix_

This triumph of the will brings to the stage the awe-inducing tale of the rise of Fire Lord Ozai, May Agni’s light bless him eternally

_dir. Pu-on Tim, starring Zhou Boqin, Xu Wen_

_Note: East of Esashi will no longer be playing at the Ember Island Theater. Pre-bought tickets can be exchanged for another show, but no refunds will be awarded._

* * *

The Fire Lord is a formidable bender. As he is of the line of Sozin, direct descendant of Agni herself, it would be treasonous to imply otherwise. It’s simply common knowledge that the Royal Family possess firebending skills unseen in the public. 

It’s also common knowledge that firebenders do not burn easy. It takes _intent_ , at the very least, to burn another firebender, and to have burned yourself with your own bending? Well, that is the mark of a person in possession of a weak blessing. 

Fire Lord Ozai has new burns up and down his arms. They splotch his hands, creep up his neck. He takes to hiding his mottled skin behind long sleeves, breathes fire that he chokes on to anyone who dares look at him a moment too long. But Izumi is silent in the background; she sees how his own flames sear his skin, hears his gasps of pain. 

* * *

Izumi doesn’t leave the palace much, and when she does, she keeps her head down. The appearance of evil is quite simply, the same as evil. And the people of the Fire Nation are well-versed in avoiding the appearance of evil. 

Izumi stalks into a local bar, hair still hot from the fireblast Princess Azula threw in her direction. Izumi wants to be angry, she does, but the part of her that heard Ozai’s shouts before Azula threw her tantrum, and the part of her that heard Azula’s short, stuttered gasps of panic after she left the room, cannot bring herself to do it.

Prince Iroh would have hurried in to calm the Princess, as he had so many times before, but the Prince, still so lost in his grief, had begged his brother to allow him one more spirit journey. He had departed from the Caldera last week, leaving his niece alone with the Fire Lord. 

So, instead of growing angry at the brotherless Princess with her grandfather’s name and her mother’s face, Izumi sits down at the bar, waves out any errant sparks still smoking in her hair, and orders the strongest sake they have available. 

It doesn’t take long for the seat next to her to become filled. 

“Have you heard the tale of the son of the Jasmine Farmer?” The man drawls, all careful calculation and feigned ease. Izumi tips the last of the sake back into her mouth. 

“I have.” She says. 

“Is it true,” the man says, and suddenly sounds hesitant. “Is it true, then, that the farmer ignored the proclamation of the spirit who guarded his farm, and murdered his son without cause?” 

Izumi thinks of bright fire, black flesh, a small body wrapped in white. 

“It is.” She says. “And the spirit has forsaken the farmer for his insolence. And soon, she will have the whole farm.” 

The man bows his head. Izumi gets another drink. 

* * *

**WANTED FOR HIGH CRIMES AGAINST THE FIRE NATION**

Tamaki Shin

Kanda Avaron

Ida Jiro

_200 gold piece reward for any information of the whereabouts of the above traitors to the Dragon Throne_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))))


	5. The Firebending Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What do you know of the Fire Nation Royal Family?" Jeong Jeong asks.  
> "I don't know! There's the Fire Lord, I guess, and the prince died a few years ago-?" Zuko says.
> 
> "Four years ago." Jeong Jeong says. "Crown Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation died four years ago."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! this chapter is a BIG boy, so yall gotta let me know if i need to shave down these chapter sizes. i have no clue how i wrote 9k in like four days so dont ask me <3
> 
> As always, thank you to my lovely beta @agentcalliope (tumblr and ao3)
> 
> also can we all pls take a moment of silence for the netflix live action rip. (I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU. WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU)
> 
> ok thank u for ur cooperation enjoy the chapter!!!

* * *

_“Wanna go penguin sledding with me?”_

* * *

“Uh, sure!” Katara says brightly. 

Zuko exchanges a look with Sokka over her head, and Sokka pulls his boomerang out of its sheath.

“Cool!” The boy jumps lightly to his feet. “Do you guys live around here?”

“Don’t answer that-” Sokka says roughly. “He’s probably a spy for the Fire Navy.”

Katara whirls around and fixes him with a dead stare. “Oh, sure, look at the evil look in his eye.” She says, gesturing back at the boy, who grins widely, still floating on one foot as though he’s weightless.

“They can _look_ cute and still be deadly, Katara, I know you’ve seen polar bear pups-“

“You’re an airbender.” Zuko interrupts his brother, staring at the boy.

“Sure am!” He says, then gasps and scrambles back up the ice wall he just slid down, yelling, “ _Appa!”_

Katara takes off around the wall, and Sokka groans as they follow her. A massive, hulking beast lies in the ice, and has just opened its grey eyes as they round the corner.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, buddy,” the boy croons, throwing his arms around the beast’s nose.

“Air bison.” Zuko says numbly. Sokka turns and looks at him suspiciously.

“How do you know that?” He asks. Zuko shrugs, and Sokka rolls his eyes. “Right, right, of course, mysterious forgotten past and all that shit. I forgot. Giant beams of light, boys in ice that _definitely should be frozen_ , air bison- I think I have midnight sun madness. I’m going home.”

Katara catches his arm before he takes another step.

“The paranoid wacko here is my brother Sokka, and that one is my other brother, Zuko. You never told us your name?” She says to the boy, who hops off the bison’s head and lands on the ice lightly.

“I’m Aang! And this is Appa.” He pats the bison’s fur. Aang looks around at the water surrounding them on all sides. “I could give you guys a ride, if you like!”

“We’d love one!” Katara says, and turns to narrow her eyes at Sokka. “Unless you wanna wait for another ride.”

“ _Fine._ ” Sokka says, and waves his boomerang threateningly in the kid’s face. “But don’t try anything.”

Aang stares down the point of the boomerang and shrugs.

“Okay. Hop on!”

* * *

The flying bison refuses to fly, so they end up on the beast’s back as it wades through the cold arctic water. Sokka sulks in the back of the saddle, and Katara is up front, chattering away with the boy. Zuko sits next to his brother, good ear tilted towards the front of the saddle.

Something is _off_ about the way Aang talks to Katara. It’s stilted and foreign and oddly formal, though it rolls off of Aang’s tongue as naturally as Bato could tie knots one-handed. He uses older words Zuko has never heard spoken aloud, that only seem vaguely familiar, like they wouldn’t be out of place in an outdated play.

“All the airbenders are dead.” He says quietly to Sokka.

“I know.” Sokka says, examining the edge of his boomerang.

“The Fire Nation killed all of them a hundred years ago. All of them.”

“ _I know.”_

“So you’re not the least bit curious about how an airbender came to be in the South Pole, with an _air bison?_ ”

“Zuko!” Sokka throws down his boomerang. “All I know is he’s bad news, and we need to get back to the village and away from him.”

Zuko stares at his brother for a second, before he crawls up to the front of the saddle.

“The Avatar was an airbender,” Katara is telling Aang, whose shoulders immediately stiffen up. “Did you know him?”

“Uh, no!” Aang says unconvincingly. “Never met the guy!”

“What temple did you say you were from again?” Zuko asks.

“The Southern Air Temple! It’s really beautiful there- though I sort of left without telling Gyatso…” Aang’s shoulders slump back down. “He’s probably really worried.”

He turns to look at Zuko, eyes raking over his hair, his face, and only settle on his scar for a second before he looks away. Zuko’s stomach clenches, and he waits for the onslaught.

“Your hair’s cool!” Aang says, gesturing up at the gold piece. “I’ve never seen hair like that before!” 

“It’s been like that as long as I can remember,” Zuko shrugs, and it’s technically not a lie. 

“You look like my friend Kuzon,” Aang says. “His eyes looked a lot like yours. But he was Fire Nation, not Water Tribe.”

“He’s adopted.” Katara says, a note of defensiveness rising in her tone. Zuko squeezes her wrist, silently willing her to stay calm.

“When did you leave the temple?” Zuko asks him quietly.

“I don’t know, a few days ago. Why? What’s today’s date?” Aang asks, stretching.

“Uh, it’s nearly spring.” Katara says, strangled.

“That’s not possible.” Aang says, and turns around. “No, I, uh, I left late summer. That’s not possible-”

“What year was it, when you left?”

“345, past the era of Yangchen?” Aang says, like this should be obvious.

Zuko’s mouth feels dry. That method of dating hasn’t been used in- 

Well, a century.

“Aang,” Katara says gently. “It’s been nearly a hundred years since then.”

“What?” Aang says disbelievingly. “No. That’s not possible.”

“I’m really sorry-” Katara moves to comfort him, but Aang jerks away.

“I’d like to be alone for a minute, if that’s okay.” He says roughly.

“Of course.” Katara says, and she and Zuko move back to Sokka, who’s curled up asleep by the edge of the saddle.

“How are we supposed to tell him?” Katara whispers to Zuko. “How do you tell someone all their people are dead? How is he even _alive_?”

Zuko shakes his head. “I have no idea. But, I think-” He looks up. Aang’s tattooed head is bowed down, his hands deep in the thick white fur of the bison. “Katara, I think he’s the Avatar.”

* * *

The maybe-Avatar falls asleep holding the reins, so when they reach the village, Zuko shakes Sokka awake, then gently lifts up Aang, deposits him on Hakoda’s long-unused bedroll, and throws a fur over his woefully-thin robes while Sokka and Katara go to track down Kanna.

When Zuko emerges back out from the hut, something small and speedy accosts him around the knees.

“Panuk!” Zuko scolds, hoisting him up and holding him in front of his face. “Dude, how many times have I told you not to do that?”

Panuk hums _I don’t know_ , and tugs on Zuko’s beads like he used to when he was young. “Who was that boy you were carrying?”

“His name is Aang,” Zuko puts him back down and tugs down his ridden-up anorak. “And he’s sleeping, so you and Aake leave him alone, okay?”

Panuk huffs and seems about to argue, but Yura, washing seaweed outside her hut, says sternly,

“Panuk, listen to Zuko.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Panuk mumbles resignedly, and takes off down the way towards where Aake and one of the younger girls have started a snowball fight.

“Another child found out on the ice, huh?” Yura says, her tone slightly teasing. Zuko groans and walks over, picking up a wad of seaweed and dunking it in the water.

“Can’t be worse than me,” Zuko tells her. “Bato once told me he almost started a fight in the meetinghouse that night.”

Yura chuckles. “He did. If Hakoda wasn’t there to calm him down, I think the makeup of our tribe would look very different.”

They work in silence for a few minutes, and Zuko surreptitiously warms the water with steam, allowing the repetitive motion to clear the thoughts swirling in his head.

“He’s an airbender.” Zuko says quietly, so the kids won’t hear. “Katara and Sokka went to find Kanna, but-”

“If the Fire Nation find out,” Yura says, and trails off, staring out in the white snow. Zuko takes the seaweed from her still hands and lays it out on the cloth to dry. She eventually shakes her head and smiles vacantly at Zuko.

“It’ll be okay.” She says. The constant sun burns hot on his scar, and Zuko takes a deep breath to steady himself.

“I hope so.” He says.

* * *

Aang sleeps for nearly sixteen hours, prompting plenty of “maybe-he’s-also-a-firebender” jokes from Sokka, which stop only when Zuko blows steam directly in his face. When he wakes up, he immediately shows off his glider in front of nearly the entire tribe, endearing him to all the kids, and definitely off-putting him to Kanna, and then takes off with Katara to go penguin sledding. 

Zuko watches them leave, Katara giggling like he hasn’t heard in over a year. When they come back, long after dinner time, Katara’s hair is wind-swept and her eyes are bright, and Zuko can’t bring himself to remind her that she was supposed to help Sanna with lessons today.

She deserves a break, after all.

Kanna calls an emergency meeting of the elders, which, at this point, consists of her, Iola, Sanna, Yura, and a few others, and that leaves Zuko and Sokka to make dinner for the hut. Zuko hands Aang a bowl of soup, then sits back down to eat his own.

“Aang and I went on the warship today.” Katara says nonchalantly around a mouthful of reindeer.

Sokka’s eyes go comically wide as he spits out his soup into the fire. “You did _what_?” He demands.

“Katara, that thing could be booby-trapped!” Zuko adds.

“It was!” Aang chirps. “But we didn’t set any of them off.”

“You _idiot!_ ” Sokka yells. “What if I just march right on over the meetinghouse and tell Gran-gran-”

“Fine! I’ll tell her about that time you and Zuko found Dad and Bato’s Earth Kingdom liquor-”

Zuko pales. He and Sokka had been hungover for nearly two days after that particular incident. If Kanna finds out, they’re as good as dead.

“Okay, okay, shut up-” Zuko holds up a hand between them, but it’s not enough to stop Sokka, who’s on a definite roll.

“How could you be so reckless? And you!” Sokka pivots to Aang, who immediately shrinks back. “I don’t care if you’re the Avatar or whatever, you can’t just put my baby sister in danger-”

“I’m _fourteen,_ I’m not a baby-”

“Who said I’m the Avatar?” Aang’s voice is an octave higher than normal. “I-I’m not the Avatar.”

“Aren’t you?” Zuko crosses his arms. He may feel bad for the kid, but Sokka has a point. That warship _is_ dangerous, and Katara shouldn’t have been on there.

Aang stares down into his soup. “Yes.” He says quietly. “I am.”

Katara gasps. Zuko hadn’t actually been expecting him to admit it- he wasn’t even completely sure he was right.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Katara asks.

“I never wanted to be.” Aang says. “I- it’s sort of why I ran away.”

“But don’t you see?” Katara says excitedly. “The whole world thinks you’re gone! We could- you could help stop the Fire Nation!”

“But I still don’t get it! How could the Fire Nation turn _bad_ , all of a sudden? Everything was fine when I left!”

“That was a hundred years ago,” Zuko says bluntly, to cover the guilt that’s churning in his stomach. “It’s not fine anymore. The world needed you.”

“But I don’t know _how_ to be the Avatar!” Aang throws his hands in the air. “I’m supposed to restore balance to the world, but I don’t even know how to bend anything but air!”

“I’m a waterbender!” Katara says. “And Zuko’s a firebender- we could help!”

“Katara, neither of you know how to _actually_ bend anything.” Sokka says, scowling.

“Don’t be mad you’re the only non-bender-”

“No, he has a point.” Zuko interrupts what’s sure to be a long and scathing monologue. “Katara you don’t really know how to bend, and I don’t even know _how_ I know how to firebend, and I definitely don’t know enough to teach someone else.”

“Then we’ll find someone to teach us.” Katara says determinedly. “We could- we could go to the Northern Water Tribe!”

“Well, you’re sure as hell not going alone. If you go, Zuko and I are coming.” Sokka says. “And are we just supposed to leave the village undefended?”

“Why not? It’s what Dad did-”

“Katara!” Zuko yells, and Aang scrambles back as the fire jumps.

“Katara, stop” Sokka says firmly. “Come on, that’s not fair. He’s trying to end the war.”

There’s a long silence, in which Zuko stares into the fire, trying to calm his breathing, Sokka and Katara don’t meet each other’s shiny eyes, and Aang seems to be very uncomfortable.

“Let’s just get some sleep.” Sokka says eventually, when it’s clear no one is going to apologize to each other. “We’ll figure things out in the morning.”

* * *

  
Zuko steals out of the hut when everyone’s breathing evens out and sits outside, closing his eyes and letting the midnight sun wash over his skin. Something Aang said is sitting funny in his brain, and he can’t quite figure out why. Light footsteps come up on the right, and Zuko cracks open his eyes to find Kanna, returning from the meetinghouse.

“How did the meeting go?” he asks as Kanna sits next to him.

“An airbender in the village,” She says. “Oh, it went about as well as when my son found you.” 

Zuko stares out on the frozen ocean, the sun reflecting bright off the waves. “He’s the Avatar.” He says, after a while.

“I know.” Kanna says.

“You know?” Zuko says, whipping his head around to stare at her.

“Avatar spirits are different from mortal spirits, child. I can tell.” Kanna says. “Just like I could tell you’re spirit touched.”

Zuko feels very exposed, all of a sudden. Hakoda had told him years ago about his supposed spirit connection to the Sun, but Zuko still doesn’t know what to make of it. He doesn’t _feel_ very spirit-touched. Why would a spirit wipe his memories and drop him at the South Pole?

Except- except, Aang had said-

“Restore balance to the world.” Zuko says quietly. His throat feels raw, and his scar pricks painfully. “That’s what Aang said he was meant to do. I-I think, I think I’m supposed to help him. I think it’s why I’m-” He touches the gold strands that fall far past his shoulders. “I think it’s why I was put here?”

Kanna makes a noncommittal sound.

“I can’t answer that for you, Zuko. I know what I know. But in my many years of living, I’ve learned that you should trust your instincts when it comes to the spirits. If you think you need to help the Avatar, then so be it.” 

Zuko stares into the never-ending sun, and hopes to Tui his intuition is right, for once.

* * *

They leave the South Pole a few days later, loading Appa up with sleeping bags, their summer clothes, and dried foods. Kanna hadn’t taken much convincing to allow all of them to go, as Katara had threatened to take off in the middle of the night if she didn’t let them. 

Kanna hugs them tightly and thumbs a moon blessing on each of their foreheads.

“Be safe and may the spirit of Tui and La go with you.” She says as Aang hops onto Appa’s head. “When you reach the Northern Tribe, ask for Yugoda. She is an old friend of mine, and will shelter you. But be aware,” she looks seriously at Sokka and Zuko. “They do things differently, up there. It’s why I left.”

“We’ll keep everyone safe,” Zuko says firmly. “I promise.” 

Kanna hugs them all again before they climb onto the bison and take off into the bright blue sky. 

Zuko turns and watches the village grow smaller and smaller- the place he had called home for the past four years, and the only home he ever knew- until the white of the huts and the walls is indistinguishable from the surrounding snow. 

Zuko turns his face back towards the sun.

* * *

Traveling with the Avatar is...interesting, to say the least. Aang is as flighty and fickle as Zuko can never remember being, and yet, weighed down with an impossible sadness that sometimes leaks out around the cracks of his perpetual grin.

After the horrifying stop that is the Southern Air Temple- and Zuko feels a coward, but he’s almost _relieved_ he didn’t have to explain to Aang what happened to his people- no one fights it when Aang announces he wants to ride a giant Unagi by Kyoshi Island. 

That is, no one fights it till a group of warriors swoop in and capture them effortlessly, only removing their hoods after they’re tied to a pole. 

“‘Let’s go ride the giant Unagi, Sokka!’ he says,” Sokka whines to Aang, tied up next to him, who sticks out his tongue. “‘It’ll be fun, Sokka!’, he says.” 

“I didn’t _expect_ to be captured by...” Aang frowns and stares at the people in front of them. The green and gold of their elaborate dress is oddly familiar to Zuko- even the dramatic war paint the girls in front of them are sporting seems as though he should be able to identify them by it. 

“Who are you guys?” Aang asks.

“I’ll be asking the questions, actually.” One of the girls steps forward, whipping a fan out of her belt in a fluid motion. “Kyoshi Island is _neutral_ territory. State your business, or we’ll feed you to the Unagi.” 

Sokka huffs. “Look, take us to whoever actually captured us, we don’t have time for-”

“We captured you.” The girl says, and the razor-sharp edge of the fan gets close enough to Sokka’s dumb mouth that Zuko has to actively shove down the flames that appear on his palms. He’ll fight his way out of here if he has to, but, honestly, he’d rather not scar Katara more than necessary.

“Don’t say it.” Katara warns Sokka, who, predictably, doesn’t listen.

“No, you didn’t,” Sokka says dismissively. “you’re just a bunch of girls.”

“This _bunch of girls_ are the Kyoshi Warriors, asshole.” The girl snarls, grabbing Sokka’s tunic and hoisting him up by it. “You better rethink your answer unless you were planning on going for a swim.”

“No!” Zuko says, and hopes smoke doesn’t wisp out from behind his teeth. “Please excuse my brother- he’s an idiot, but he doesn’t mean anything by it.” 

The girl looks over Zuko, her black eyebrows raised in surprise, but drops Sokka.

“Kyoshi warriors?” Aang asks. “I know Kyoshi!”

“Impossible, Kyoshi died over 400 years ago.” A man dressed in dark blue scoffs.

“Well, I didn’t _know_ her, but I sort of am her.” Aang says, grinning. “She’s one of my past lives! I didn’t want to say anything, but, you see, I’m the Avatar!”

The girl actually laughs and whips out her other fan. ”No one’s seen the Avatar in a century. Unagi time! Girls-”

“Aang, now would be a good time for you to airbend!” Katara grits out.

“Oh, right!” Aang says, like he’s just remembered he could do that. He jumps up and out of the ropes, which immediately break, and runs up the pole they were bound to, before flipping back down effortlessly.

“An airbender.” The man says in a hushed tone. “The Avatar’s returned.”

“Sure have!” Aang chirps. “And if you think that was impressive, watch _this!_ ” He whips out his marbles and begins spinning them between his palms, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Are we _sure_ he’s the Avatar?” Sokka asks, rubbing his shoulders.

“You know of another airbender who somehow survived a hundred years on ice?” Zuko asks him dryly as he pulls Katara up from the ground and helps her fix her windswept braid.

“Not _yet_.” Sokka says. “But give it time. Our life has already been so godsdamn weird. It might as well happen.” 

* * *

Kyoshi Island is actually somewhat pleasant when no one’s trying to actively kill them. They’re given a guest house in the middle of the small town square, and Zuko marvels at the bath adjacent to the sleeping room. He hasn’t taken a full bath since- well, since he can’t remember when. After a full-hearty breakfast, Katara and Aang take off to the market to get supplies.

“Hey,” Zuko nudges Sokka, who’s still fully wrapped in every blanket on his pallet. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Sokka sticks his face out. “This stupid island doesn’t have anything on it. We should just leave.”

“Spirits, Sokka, are you seriously embarrassed-”

“I’m not _embarrassed._ ” Sokka says loudly.

“What does it even matter if it was a girl who kicked your ass?” Zuko throws his hands up in the air. 

“I just said I’m not embarrassed,” Sokka scowls and ducks under his covers again. “I just don’t wanna get up. Go by yourself, jerkbender.” 

Zuko rolls his eyes, but gets up, giving his brother a light kick to the shoulder before he throws on his parka and heads out.

They’re far enough from the South now that the sun rises and sets at predictable times, which is throwing Zuko off. He keeps waking up in the middle of the night and expecting to see pale light coming through the window. When he only finds dark, it strikes him with an odd pang of homesickness. Though this- the sun warm on his face like it almost never was back home, bright and steady and high in the sky- this, he could get used to. He wanders up through the village, spotting Katara and Aang bickering by a fruit stand, and weathering the stares from the villagers, until he reaches a small dojo on the outside of the village. 

The girls are practicing inside, moving their fans through complex katas as fluidly as water, and Zuko can’t help but watch. The palms of his hands are itching for weapons, but all he has is his boomerang strapped to his back. Somehow, as he watches the girls swing their fans from both hands, balanced and natural, that seems inadequate. 

The girl who threatened Sokka catches his eye, and immediately drops her fans, and Zuko flushes and turns away. Maybe he should go back to the room to drag Sokka out of bed so they can check on Appa- 

“Take a five minute break, guys!” The girl says, and then calls out to him, “Hey, wait up!”

Zuko stops and turns around. “Uh, sorry,” he manages to stammer out. “I-I just- you guys are really skilled.”

The girl’s red lips quirk into an amused smile.

“Your brother doesn’t seem to think so.”

“He’s an idiot.” Zuko says quickly. “Seriously, Sokka’s not really like that, I promise.”

“Guess I’ll have to take your word for it. I’m Suki, by the way.” The girl says.

“Zuko.”

“I have to get back to my girls,” Suki waves back in the direction of the dojo, where two of the girls seem to be in a handstand contest involving placing their fans directly underneath their suspended face as motivation. Suki stares at them and sighs. “Suyin and Pema have death wishes, I swear. Anyways, tell your brother to stop by, if he wants to know how a bunch of girls kicked his ass.”

There’s a terrifying glint in Suki’s violet-blue eyes that makes Zuko think it’s probably best to leave Sokka to his fate, whatever it is. Zuko heads off towards the village as Suki steps back into the dojo and immediately starts yelling.

* * *

They end up spending a few days in Kyoshi to refuel and restock their supplies. In the afternoon of the third day, Zuko walks into their room and finds it empty, save for Katara, who’s hunched over her amauti with a needle and thread.

“Hey,” he greets her, putting down a bag of groceries. “Where are Sokka and Aang?”

“Sokka went to find that girl again. And Aang’s probably getting eaten by the Unagi.” Katara mutters. The needle slips and she hisses as she stabs her palm. Zuko rolls his eyes and crouches down, pulling the needle and thread out of her hands.

“Why are you two fighting?” He asks. Katara crosses her arms, and Zuko sits down next to her to finish stitching up the rip in her hem.

“We’re not fighting, and I don’t care, anyways.”

“Don’t care about what?” Zuko asks blankly.

“He gave me this whole “I’m a simple monk, I don’t care about praise or anything” routine. and then as soon as those girls showed him _any_ attention, he totally jumped at it!” Katara flings her hands up in indignation. The water jug in the corner sloshes over the brim and soaks Sokka’s empty bedroll. 

“Sounds like maybe you do care.” Zuko says, and knots off the thread.

Katara flushes pink and stomps away from him, looking out the windows. “I do _not_.”

“Whatever.” Zuko puts her amauti on the bedroll. “He’s a bald twelve-year-old, how suave can he be?” 

Katara points out the window, and Zuko can distantly hear a roar of high-pitched squeals. He stands up to find the unmistakable orange figure of the Aang whipping up the road from the bay, followed by the small blue blurs with long hair and kerchiefs.

“Huh.” Zuko says. “Maybe a little bit.”

Katara stomps on his foot.

But as the throng gets closer, the squeals sound less excited and more...terrified? Aang seems to be waving his arms, and as he spots them in the window, he cups his hands over his mouth to shout something. 

“What’s he saying?” Zuko asks, tilting his good ear towards the window.

“Something’s wrong.” Katara gasps. She grabs his wrist and drags him towards the door. 

The girls have dispersed by the time they make it downstairs, and Aang is gasping for breath by the doorway, pointing at the bay. “Some- someone’s coming.” He pants. “Fire Nation.”

Zuko’s blood turns icy and Katara pales.

“Where’s Sokka?” He asks urgently. “We need to go-“

“I’m here!” Sokka yells behind them, and Zuko whips around to find two Kyoshi Warriors running down the road.

Zuko looks a little closer. One Kyoshi Warrior, and Sokka. 

“Nice makeup,” Katara says, eyebrow raised.

“Shut up, it’s _war paint.”_ Sokka growls and waves her off. “Can we focus on the Fire Navy ship? Suki and I saw it from the dojo.”

“It’s Zhao. It has to be.” Suki says grimly. 

“Who?” Aang asks.

“He’s an Admiral.” Suki says, eyes fixed on the horizon. “Kyoshi Island has been neutral for over a hundred years, but every few months that asshole lands here and demands we trade with him, or…”

“Or what?” Sokka asks, voice thin. Suki shakes her head and gestures at the village around them, built up on wood and paper and very flammable linen. 

Zuko swallows thickly, and thinks his decision to hide his firebending was probably the only smart one he’s made in years.

“I’m getting him out of here.” He says, whipping his boomerang out of its hold.

“Uh, hey, stupid-“ Sokka grabs his arm and pulls him around. “Were you planning on going alone?” 

Zuko stares at him for a second. “Yes?”

“Have I ever told you that you’re an idiot?”

“Yes, Katara, you _have_ -“

“Guys,” Aang said nervously, eyes on the road. “Now is not the time.”

“Hold on, Aang, I’m going now, I just-“

“YOU! GIRL!” A booming voice erupts from the edge of the market, and a shock travels up Zuko’s spine. He knows that voice, he knows that-

“Colonel Zhao.” He breaths, staring at the imposing man in full Fire Nation uniform. A small regiment of soldiers stay in formation behind him. The man’s gold eyes flit over him, and he laughs.

“ _Admiral_ Zhao, little half-breed.” He focuses on Zuko’s scar a moment too long, and a lump appears in his throat. To his right, he watches Sokka grip his boomerang tighter. 

“Spirits, I feel bad for whatever fine Fire Nation specimen mated with a savage to produce such an ugly-“

_“Hey!”_ Katara yells, eyes narrowed. Her hand is positioned over her water skin.

“What do you want, Zhao?” Suki says, stepping out in front of all of them with a decisive wave of her fans. “I told you, this port is neutral. Pick up your supplies and leave.”

“Ah-ah, little girl.” Zhao lets a small flame dance over his fingertips. Zuko feels his own chi lines grow hot in response. “I’m just very interested in why a half-breed is traveling with savages and-“ he glances at Aang, his lip curled. “Whatever that is. Especially a half-breed with a scar like _that._ Your father must have grown sick of you-“

Something white-hot and overpowering surges up in Zuko’s chest, and he’s striding forward, one hand reaching out before he realizes what he’s doing.

“Zuko, no-” Sokka grabs his arm and yanks him back. 

Zhao raises an eyebrow. “The little mutt has a dead prince’s name, no less! This just gets more interesting by the second.”

“Zhao, get your shit and _go-_ ” Suki snarls. 

Zhao laughs. The flame on his hand grows bigger and bigger, and Suki’s mouth clamps shut. “I believe we’ll be taking what we need, on the house, today.” He says, and gestures at the soldiers behind him. They disperse through-out the market, turning over stalls and taking whole baskets of vegetables. Suki stares at them with a grimly resigned look on her face.

“You, though, I’m still _very_ interested in!” Zhao takes a step forward, and Zuko has to take several breaths through his nose to stay calm when the man yanks on his wolf’s tail so that Zuko is forced to meet his eyes. 

“My, my, what a pretty face,” Zhao croons. “A pity about that scar, though.”

He reaches up, as though to pet his cheek. Zuko takes a deep breath in and exhales _fire_.

He hears Aang yelp in surprise behind him. Zhao roars in anger, hands over his eyes, and Zuko immediately sweeps the man’s feet out from under him, and shoves, hard.

Zhao falls back onto the cobblestone, and Zuko has approximately one second to whip around and meet Sokka’s crazed stare, Katara pulled close to him, before he hears Zhao scream,

_“Burn it to the ground!”_

“Ah, fuck.” Suki says. She pulls a small whistle out from under her robes, blows hard and fast, and then whisks out her fans and takes off towards the nearest soldier.

Zuko shakes himself as the smell of smoke begins to fill the marketplace, and he can hear shrieks of fear from inside one of the near houses.

“We have to help!” Aang shouts. He speeds towards the yells on a gust of wind, and Zuko runs towards a stall already ablaze.

Time doesn’t appear to move in its normal linear manner. Zuko jumps between long moments, using firebending moves he didn’t know he was capable of, and quick blurs of action, blood and sweat and smoke blending together until he doesn’t know where one stops and the other begins.

A high-pitched scream rips from the small schoolhouse. Zuko pulls his head up and runs towards it, ripping away the screen. One of the girls who’d been hanging around Aang is cowering in a corner, arms over her head. A soldier dressed in black is advancing towards her with a hand lit up in bright red, searing whites.

“You piece of _shit-_ ” Zuko snarls, wrenching the soldier away by his shoulder and throwing him on the ground. “Run!” He yells to the little girl, who scrambles up and out the door with a choked sob. 

He kneels on the soldier’s chest, barreling fists and elbows and any hard thing he can find into the soldier’s nameless helmet. Zuko catches a knuckle under the faceplate and knocks it off. 

The soldier underneath his grasp can’t be much older than Zuko or Sokka, his skin still pockmarked with acne. Zuko meets his dark eyes for one, timeless, confused second, before the soldier lets out a strangled yell and a ball of hot, branding flames comes up and-

directly at

Zuko’s face.

* * *

_“You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher!”_

* * *

_“Uncle- Uncle, it hurts, make it stop-”_

_“I know, I know, I’m so sorry, child,”_

* * *

_Heat blisters his skin, cracks his eye, muffles his hearing, sears every nerve ending until there is nothing in Zuko’s consciousness but pain, pain, pain-_

* * *

_“ZUKO!”_

The weight on his chest gets thrown off, and Zuko blinks hard to find Suki kicking away the body of the soldier. There’s a smear of blood on her white cheek and her teeth are bared. 

“Are you alright?” She asks, kneeling down. Zuko shakes his head, just reaches up, and feels himself relax slightly when he finds only the rough, healed edges of his scar instead of a pulsing chasm of burning coal. 

“I-” He croaks out. Another scream cuts him off from outside, and Zuko’s stomach clenches. 

“Katara!” He yells hoarse and bolts for the door. 

Half the marketplace is either ashes or burning steadily towards its final state. Zuko looks around wildly, finding Katara on the ground with Sokka running towards her. 

Aang is advancing towards a group of stray soldiers, Zhao at the forefront, and the wind is picking up around him.

“You HURT HER!” He yells.

Zuko throws up his hands over his face as a gale force sweeps through the street. Aang’s tattoos and eyes glow a blinding white, and he lifts straight off the ground as the winds seem to surround him with a ferocity that would terrify Zuko if he had room in his brain for anything other than sheer adrenaline. 

Aang lets out a roar that echos up the mountain, and the soldiers scramble down the street, tripping over themselves. Aang, still lifted directly off the ground, chases them down. The waves in the harbor seem to swell higher as Aang draws closer, and he eventually disappears over the horizon with his manmade storm surrounding him. 

“Katara?” Sokka asks, and his voice breaks. That’s enough to break Zuko from his reverie, and he slides on his knees in front of his sister.

“What happened?” He asks urgently.

Katara shakes her head, her lip bit tight between her teeth, and sticks out her wrist. A large bright red burn, already blistering, wraps around her dark skin.

“Oh,” Sokka says, staring at it. “Oh-”

“I’m okay!” Katara insists through the tears that cloud her eyes. “I’m okay, really!”

“She needs cool water,” Suki says, and takes off into a nearby building.

Zuko carefully pulls back her sleeve. Katara takes in a sharp breath as part of the cloth gets caught in the raw skin of her burn, and Sokka wraps a tight arm around her shoulders. Suki comes back out with a filled bucket and places it in front of Katara. Zuko finishes rolling up her sleeve, and reaches forward to tuck some stray hair behind her ears.

“This is gonna hurt,” He says quietly and tries not to think about the other, far more painful, burn care she is sure to need later. Katara nods once and turns into Sokka’s shoulder. Zuko carefully guides her wrist into the bucket.

As he submerges her arm, the water begins to glow a white-blue and surrounds her forearm. Katara gasps and yanks her arm back out. The skin is whole and healed, with not even a shadow of red to indicate that a burn was there. 

“What-” Katara says, staring at her arm.

“You’re a healer.” Zuko says, dumb-founded. “You can heal using waterbending.”

“How…”

Sokka roughly pulls her head to his chest and drops a kiss on her hair as she continues staring at her skin. “I have _never_ been more grateful for your stupid woo-woo magic.” He says, voice thick, and Zuko huffs a wet laugh.

The creaking sounds of folding metal come from the harbor. A great wave swells out from the dock, and with it, a battered Fire Nation ship.

“We need to go.” Zuko says, and looks over at Suki.

“Go. My girls and I can handle any clean up.” She says. Suki pulls Sokka up by his robes and kisses him quick and firm, before she takes off down the street, yelling, “Be safe!” 

Sokka watches her go with a vacant stare in his eyes. “What just happened,”

Katara snorts, wipes her eyes, and pulls him off the ground. “I think- correct me if I’m wrong- you just had your first kiss.” 

Another loud squealing sound comes from the harbor, followed by a roar of thunder, and Katara pulls Zuko up, too. 

“We need to go, and _now.”_

* * *

They swoop low on Appa and pick up Aang’s nearly prone form where it’s crumpled on the docks, and head in the opposite direction of the metal ship, now several miles off the coast of the island. 

Katara wraps Aang, still mostly out of it, in blankets and climbs on Appa’s head to take the reins while Sokka finishes removing his Kyoshi makeup. Zuko watches him carefully wrap the headpiece in one of his undershirts and place it in his bag.

“So I guess you and Suki made up?” He asks. 

Sokka nods. “Yeah. I was, uh, I was an ass.”

“A little bit.” Zuko agrees, and gets a punch to his shoulder for his efforts. 

Sokka tilts his head at him. “Are you alright?” He asks and gestures up at his nose. “You’ve got, like, a bad sunburn.”

Zuko reaches up and gingerly feels the tender skin around his cheek. It really only hurts on his unscarred side; the rough skin around his left eye has never felt, well, anything, very well.

“I got burned.” He says shortly. “it, uh-”

He stops. He still hasn’t made sense of everything that transpired in the past few hours- the disjointed fragments of pain and yelling that bounced around his skull as the flames licked his face. 

“You should get Katara to heal you.” Sokka says. “Weird what Zhao said, huh?”

Zuko blinks. “What did Zhao say?”

“You’ve got the name of a dead prince?” Sokka frowns and raps on Zuko’s forehead. “You okay there, buddy? Hit your head on the ice again?”

Zuko scowls and throws his brother’s hand off. “Shut up.” he says, and then, after a beat, “It _is_ weird.”

But not as weird as Zuko thinks, perhaps, it should be.

* * *

_  
Hundreds of miles away, somewhere in the Earth Kingdom_

Hakoda resists the urge to give a great sigh of contentment as the bartender slides a beer in front of him. He downs half the bottle before Bato forces it back down the table.

“Okay, take it easy there, Koda.” Bato chuckles.

“ _Three_ months at sea, Bato.” Hakoda says into his beer. “I never thought I’d miss the land so much.” 

There’s a great roar from the corner, where Tulok and Amaruq are taking their first shots of sake. 

“I think the men agree with your decision to take leave, Chief.” Bato says solemnly. “I feel like we ought to plan you a feast in your great chiefly honor.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Hakoda says, and shoves a bottle at his best friend. “And drink.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

“You folks Earth Kingdom Navy?” The bartender asks. 

Hakoda stiffens. “Southern Water Tribe. We’re helping the Earth Kingdom out.” He says shortly.

The bartender nods and pulls out a rag to wipe down the glasses in front of him.

“That works, too. Been looking for a way to get this information to someone who could use it.”

Hakoda glances at Bato and puts his beer down. “What information?”

“There’s a Fire Nation colony a few klicks south of here. We get traders passing through here from there, so I hear this and that.” The bartender pauses and looks around before he leans forward. “Rumor has it there’s trouble brewing under the surface in that town. Ever since Prince Zuko was killed-”

“Sorry,” Hakoda interrupts. Bato grips his shoulder tight. “Prince who?”

“Prince Zuko?” The bartender says in a bemused tone. “Crown Prince of the Fire Nation? Most everyone knows at this point- he was killed by his father in ritual combat a few years back."

He holds a hand up in front of his left eye, grimacing. "Some say the Fire Lord burned the kid's face clean off."  
  


* * *

Aang recovers quickly, and within a day, they’re back on Appa, jumping from place to place with- it seems to Zuko- no real plan or sense of urgency. 

“Omashu?” Zuko blinks. “What the hell’s an Omashu?”   
  


* * *

  
“A prison barge? Seriously? Honestly, Katara, do you have any plans that don’t, like, end with you in danger and Zuko and I almost dying?”

“Nope.” 

"This isn't just because you have a crush on Ha-" 

" _Nope."  
  
_

* * *

“Oh _good,_ a comet that gives firebenders crazy power! No way the Fire Lord will use that to do something horrible, right?” 

* * *

“Pirates, Katara?” 

“What? It’s not like I stole it- they took it from us, first, so really, I was just making repa-”

“ _Pirates, Katara?”_

* * *

“On Agni, Sokka, I didn’t see him take the stupid wheat out of his mouth _once._ ” 

“Shut up.” 

“What was even up with his eyebrows?”

“Aang! Not you too!” 

* * *

“Hey!” Aang skids up to a message board. “There’s a festival the town over!”

Zuko peers at the board, hoisting his bag higher on his shoulder. “Oh, look-” He pulls down a poster of Aang. “And they’ve already started their artistic interpretations.”

“Cool! A poster of me!” Aang yanks it out of his hands.

“A wanted poster. I don’t think going to a Fire Nation festival is a good idea.” Katara says.

“Why not?” Aang juts out his lower lip and makes big eyes at Katara, and Zuko raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “We could learn about Fire Nation culture!”

"What's there to know?" Sokka grumbles. "They're bloodthirsty ashmakers." 

Zuko stills. "Shit- not you, Zuko, fuck, I'm sorry, you know I don't mean you-"

"Uh-huh." Zuko says. "I think we should go to the festival."

Sokka groans as Aang whoops in excitement.

* * *

  
  


Being surrounded by reds and blacks and golds is oddly nice, like coming home after a long hunting trip. People are wearing elaborate masks and singing rowdy songs in an old language that exists perpetually on the tip of Zuko's tongue. Katara locates a mask vendor and immediately selects masks for all of them, shoving a blue-and-white one making a grotesque expression at Zuko.

"He looks grumpy, like you." She says, slipping on her own mask.

"I'm not _grumpy_."

"Food!" Sokka gasps, and speeds towards a vendor on the side of the street. Zuko winces.

"Sokka, wait-“

"What are fire flakes? Eh, doesn't matter-"

Sokka's masked face goes red around the edges and he pulls off his mask to spit out a mouthful of food. "What the _fuck_?" Sokka says, making grabby hands at Katara's water skin. "Why is it so hot?"

"Fire Nation food is pretty spicy," Aang says. "My friend Kuzon used to bring chili flakes with him when we traveled to any of the Temples, 'cause our food was too bland for him."

"Poison," Sokka gasps out, hands around his throat.

"Baby." Zuko rolls his eyes and grabs the fire flakes out of his hands, taking a handful. "These aren't even _hot_. Maybe if you had good taste, you'd like them"

Aang tilts his head at Zuko. "Didn't you grow up in the Southern Water Tribe?"

Zuko opens his mouth, realizes he doesn't actually have an answer. He's saved by Katara tugging on Aang's sleeve.

"Look, there's a huge crowd over there! What do you think is going on at that stage?"

"Knowing the Fire Nation, probably an execution." Sokka says darkly. Zuko shoves a fistful of fire flakes in his brother's mouth and pulls Katara's water skin out of his hands.

* * *

"Did you _have_ to reveal yourself in front of an entire crowd of Fire Nation citizens?" Sokka pulls off his mask as they trudge through the forest, the mysterious cloaked man leading them. 

"He was going to firebend at Katara!" Aang says defensively.

"It was just a demonstration, she wouldn't have gotten hurt." Zuko says, but takes one look at Katara, who's got one hand wrapped around her healed wrist, and clamps his mouth shut. "You okay?" He asks her.

"Fine." Katara says, wrenching her eyes up and smiling thinly. "Just, uh, shook me, is all."

"Yeah." He says softly. He looks up at the back of the man who got them out, taking off his mask. "Who are you, anyways?" 

The man glances around the forest and pulls off his hood. His eyes are unmistakably copper, and Zuko narrows his own.

"My name's Chey." He says.

"You're a Fire Nation soldier." Sokka says harshly.

"Was," Chey corrects quickly. "I deserted a few years back."

"You did...what?" Zuko asks, taken aback. He doesn't know much about the Fire Nation, but the idea of someone deserting the military seems impossible.

"Yeah," Chey says, and turns ahead. There's a small mark on the back of his neck, raised and red, but Chey adjusts his hood before Zuko can get a good look. "I'm not the only one. I serve Jeong Jeong."

"General Jeong Jeong?" Zuko asks blankly. That doesn't make any sense, either.

Chey shakes his head, and his eyes seem to focus on Zuko's scar. 

"He's not a general anymore. We have a small base camp a few miles from here. I'll take you to see him."

* * *

Chey takes them to a small encampment on the bank of a river and deposits them in a room while he talks to Jeong Jeong. 

"How'd you know Jeong Jeong was a General?" Aang asks curiously. Zuko pulls his knees to his chest and stares into the fire in the middle of the room.

"I don't know. I just did." He says.

"How can you not _know_ how you know something?"

"I just don't, okay?" Zuko yells. The fire jumps up. Katara moves her bag out of the way, and Aang stares at him, so he takes several deep breaths and closes his eyes till he feels the fire return to its normal level.

"Zuko," Sokka says. "Maybe you should just tell-"

"Can we not talk about this now?" Zuko interrupts roughly. The screen to the hut slides open and Chey comes back in.

"Avatar, Jeong Jeong has decided you're not ready to learn firebending yet."

"What?" Aang flies to his feet. "Why not?"

"You haven't mastered water and earth."

"How could he have known that?"

"He saw the way you walked into camp. You, though," He turns to Zuko, who steadfastly stares into the fire and ignores him. "He wants to talk to you."

"Good for him." Zuko mumbles.

"Zuko, come on." Aang tugs on his sleeve. "This is _stupid_ , he has to train me, since you said yourself that your firebending isn't good enough yet-"

"You're a firebender?" Chey asks Zuko. 

The fire roars with Zuko's quickened heart, and that answers Chey's question well enough.

"Oh man, Jeong Jeong is definitely gonna want to talk to you. Come on, the Avatar can come, too."

* * *

Chey leads them to a hut on the edge of the river and ushers them through the door. A man sits in the middle of the darkened room, surrounded by lit candles, eyes closed as though he's meditating. His shock-white hair is certainly long enough for a top knot, but it hangs loose around his jaw, half covering the long, gashing scars that cross his face.

"Master Jeong Jeong," Aang bows, fisting one hand over a straight-up palm, and Zuko stares at it for a second before he does the same. "You won't train us?"

"Only a fool seeks his own destruction." Jeong Jeong rumbles. Zuko has to hold back a snort. Old men and their proverbs.

"I need to learn firebending. I'm the Avatar," Aang presses on. "It's my destiny-"

"Destiny?" The man lifts his head up. "What could a child know of destiny?"

"I'm the _Avatar._ I have to learn all the elements."

"To master the elements, you must first master discipline itself. Tell me, airbender, are you interested in discipline?"

Aang blinks.

"I mean, I guess. Please, you have to teach me. Zuko isn't a master, and I may not have another chance-"

"Are you deaf?" Jeong Jeong yells. "Before learning firebending, you have to learn water and earth. Water is cool and soothing, earth is steady and strong. But fire-" He stares at Zuko, eyes fixed unashamedly on the left side of his face. Zuko sets his jaw and stares back, raising his eyebrow. "Fire is alive. It breathes and grows. If not checked, it will burn out of control and destroy everything in its path."

Aang stares ahead and gulps, and Zuko knows, somehow, that he is thinking of Katara and a handprint burned into her wrist.

"I know, Master." Aang bows his head. "I understand that fire is hard to control. But I need to _learn_."

Jeong stares at him, and it seems to Zuko that Aang's eyes glow for a second before they settle back into their normal gray.

"Very well. Meet me at the riverbank tomorrow at sunrise."

"Sunrise-" Aang begins to groan, but Zuko kicks his leg and he shuts up. "Yes, Master, thank you. "

Aang bows and Zuko stands up to leave with him.

"Not you, young firebender." Jeong Jeong says, holding up a hand. "I'd like a word with you."

Aang's eyes widen and he makes a move to sit back down, but Zuko waves him off.

As the door shuts behind Aang, Jeong Jeong sits straight up and looks steadily at Zuko.

"When Chey told me a Fire Nation boy dressed in Water Tribe clothes was traveling with the Avatar, I found it odd, but I would be naive to think that this war did not result in young casualties. And then Chey told me the boy’s name was Zuko, and furthermore, that he was scarred on his left side."

"And?" Zuko says stiffly.

Jeong Jeong raises one large eyebrow.

"How long were you in the South Pole?"

"Four years." Zuko crosses his arms.

"You have odd hair, Zuko." Jeong Jeong says. "Gold is not commonly found in the Fire Nation. Or the Water Tribes."

"It's just my hair." Zuko says. He grips the edges of his tunic. "What do you want from me?"

"What do you know of the Fire Nation Royal Family?" He asks. 

"I don't know! There's the Fire Lord, I guess, and the prince died a few years ago-?"

"Four years ago." Jeong Jeong says. "Crown Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation died four years ago."

Zuko's heart speeds up. Red and gold is starting to cloud his vision- cold floor beneath him and fire above him, someone screaming in his ear-

"You don't know anything-" he says roughly, as the candles jump with the stuttered breath in his lungs. "I'm _Water Tribe._ "

"Zuko-"

_"Don't talk to me."_

Zuko bolts up and runs before the candles can flare again and the hut catches flame.

* * *

Aang, predictably, complains throughout his entire first practice with Jeong Jeong.

Zuko itches to join, even as Aang simply stands at the top of a mountain and breaths deep, but every time Jeong Jeong looks at him, the pit in his stomach grows larger, so he stays far away, sitting on a rock with Chey and Sokka as Aang focuses on a burning leaf and Katara practices katas on the shore.

Chey's shed his heavy cloak, and he tilts his head up towards the sun, eyes closed. Zuko can finally make out the mark on his neck.

"Kindling." he says, sounding out the characters branded into Chey's skin. Chey cracks his eyes open.

"Yes," Chey says, touching the mark lightly.

"What does that mean?" Sokka asks, adjusting his line.

"I was a firebender in the Fire Nation military, up until about four years ago." Chey says. "Conscripted right out of my hometown when I was fifteen."

"You're a firebender," Zuko says as he watches Chey take in the sunlight like water for a parched man, and something clicks in his head.

"I am. All the firebenders from my town were taken." He cranes his neck so Zuko can make out the brand completely. "This was just to make sure we knew exactly where our place in the hierarchy was."

"What was it?"

"Front lines." Chey smiles, but there's no warmth behind it. "Kindling."

A heavy silence settles over them.

"That- that's horrible." Sokka says finally. "That's awful."

Chey shrugs.

"It is what it is. We were disposable to the Fire Nation military. I made it out alive, that's all I could have asked for. I can’t say the same for most of my division.” 

"What happened four years ago?" Sokka asks.

Chey glances over at Zuko before fixing his gaze on the river.

"The Crown Prince was killed."

"Why would that have-"

"He was twelve." Chey's voice hardened. "His father, the Fire Lord, killed him. He tried to frame it as treason, but what treason can a twelve-year-old commit?"

Zuko's throat feels impossibly small. He digs his nails into his wrist and wills himself to calm.

"Anyways, the truth was leaked from inside the Palace- no one really knows by who- that in reality, the prince had attempted to stop a division from being slaughtered as a diversion and was killed in an Agni Kai, and, well-" Chey gestures around the small encampment. "The rest is history."

"41st." Zuko hears it exit his mouth, but doesn't remember thinking it.

Chey nods, his eyes dark.

"I was in the 41st Division. Zuko-"

"You all need to go, NOW!" Jeong Jeong bursts onto the beach.

"What?" Aang yells. "Why?"

"An old student of mine has come to pay his respects." Jeong Jeong says grimly.

Zuko whips his head up. Zhao's ship is heading down the river, the asshole himself standing at the bridge.

"We can help fight!" Zuko says, jumping to his feet.

"No!" Jeong Jeong shouts. "You need to go. Chey and I can hold him. Get OUT of here!"

Aang meets Zuko's eyes for a quick second and he nods. As they're running out to the clearing where Appa is resting, Jeong Jeong catches Zuko's shoulder and stops him dead. 

"Your uncle misses you very much." He says, and it hits Zuko like a punch to the gut.

"I-I-" He stutters out, and closes his eyes. "I don't have an uncle."

Jeong Jeong squeezes his shoulder once, doesn't bother refuting him again, and gives him a push towards Sokka, who grabs his arm and pulls him towards the forest, as Zhao jumps off the boat onto the beach.

As Appa takes off and flies over the forest, Zuko looks down, and sees a wall of fire burning the encampment to the ground.

* * *

It's long past dark. Sokka and Katara are asleep, and Aang is sitting on Appa's head, his own head bowed, guiding them north. Zuko sighs, throws off his sleeping bag, and crawls over to him.

"Are you alright?" Zuko asks. Aang looks up and gives him one of those smiles that barely reaches his eyes.

"Fine." he says cheerily.

"You sure, Aang?"

"Oh yeah, Zuko, I'm okay. What's up?"

Zuko glances back at his siblings, dead asleep only a few feet away from each other, Zuko's abandoned sleeping bag in the middle, and takes a deep breath.

"Remember how you asked me about being raised in the Southern Water Tribe?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I sort of wasn't..."

* * *

Iroh stares at the metal doors of Zhao's office, the letter from Jeong Jeong still burned into his retinas. 

_I don't know if you remember_ , the letter had said in Jeong Jeong's perpetually messy script, _but in a past game, four years ago, you informed me that the jasmine piece on the board ought to be removed, as it had been deposed of._

_Old friend, I've seen your missing jasmine piece, moving towards the Northern Port along with the last wheel piece in the set, and two boat pieces._

"Prince Iroh!" Zhao smiles as he opens the door. "How is your, ah, spiritual journey, coming?"

"Very well, thank you for asking." Iroh says. Zhao invites him in, and they sit at Zhao's desk, a pot of tea Iroh won't touch between them.

"What can I do for you?" Zhao asks. "I thought I'd heard you were retired from all military operations?"

"I was," Iroh bows his head. "However, I heard rumors that you're attempting a siege of the North?"

"I am. I've been planning it for years, and now that the Fire Lord, may Agni's light bless him eternally, has seen it fit to give me an armada, well, what better time than the present?"

"As he should have," Iroh agrees amiably, though the words taste of oversteeped black tea in his mouth. "I am here to offer my services. I am sure you are aware of my military pursuits as a young man. Allow me to accompany you to give you advice on your most honorable mission to the North."

"Prince Iroh," Zhao smiles, though it looks closer to a baring of teeth. "Nothing would bring me greater happiness than your company."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the kindling theme from this chapter was pioneered by muffinlance, in her "Kindling" series, which is TRULY heartwrenching. give it a look!


	6. The Sun and the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You have this- this warmth, Zuko. That's how I knew. I don’t really know how else to describe it. You’re just very bright.” Yue says.
> 
> Zuko looks away, suddenly unable to handle the enormity of her gaze.
> 
> “I don’t feel very warm. I don’t even know why Agni chose me.” He mumbles to the carpet.
> 
> “It’s not always obvious, right away, why the spirits do what they do.” Yue says quietly. “I think we just have to hope that their purpose for us becomes clear with time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whats up yall!! i straight up gave myself carpal tunnel writing this chapter, and it went through an INSANE amount of revisions, so I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> As always, thank you to my beta, @agentcalliope!!

* * *

“You know,” Zuko says, staring out at the vast expanse of ice surrounding them as Appa skims northern waters for the third day straight. “I’m starting to think the Northern Water Tribe is a myth.”

“Oh, they’re real, alright” Sokka says, scrunching up his nose. “Real enough to abandon their sister tribe and be so terrible that Gran-gran went to the literal opposite side of the world to get away from them.”

“Remind me why we’re going there, if they’re so awful?” Aang asks from Appa’s head. He’s been quiet since they left the Northern Air Temple- this is the first he’s said all morning. Zuko can’t really fault him for it. It had been...uncomfortable to see how much of the Temple had been destroyed by the Mechanist. Zuko can’t even imagine how Aang feels.

“Because we have to learn waterbending,” Katara says patiently. “And since they’re the only waterbenders left- “

“-They wouldn’t be if they hadn’t turned their back on us while our waterbenders were captured and killed-”

“Sokka, what choice do we have?” Katara snaps. “Aang needs to learn waterbending, and so do I, unless you want to end up in a block of ice again.”

Sokka glances at the ice shelf they’re passing and pales. “Fine,” He relents. “But can’t Appa go _any_ faster?”

Aang turns around and gives Sokka the best murderous stare his big gray eyes can manage, which isn’t very murderous at all.

“He’s been carrying us for three days _straight_ , Sokka. How about you fly us to the North Pole on _your_ back?”

“Okay, hop on-“

Out of nowhere, a massive wave crests over the ice shelf. Katara flings her arms out to divert it over Appa. Ice forms around Appa’s feet, anchoring them to the water, and Aang gasps and jumps off his head, letting out a gust of concentrated wind to crack it.

“What the fu-“ Zuko pulls his boomerang off his back.

“Wait!” Katara shouts. “Look!”

Wooden ships, flat and lightweight, careen around the ice shelf, looking so much as if they’d just pulled away from the docks in the South Pole, Zuko almost expects Hakoda to be standing on deck.

Almost.

The wood of these boats is sleek and well-polished, not weathered and full of splinters he and Sokka had to spend afternoons picking out of their palms, and the flag waving from the top mast is light-blue and silky, not the dark, rugged cloth of their tribe.

“The Northern Water Tribe! I _knew_ we’d find them!” Katara looks so excited as she hugs Sokka that Zuko can’t bring himself to voice his thoughts. Sokka rests his chin on Katara’s head, and gives Zuko a heavy look, a sad smile, that tells him he knows exactly what he’s thinking.

* * *

The ships, once they can be persuaded to stop attempting to kill them on sight, lead them to a great white wall which lifts effortlessly as they approach, and on through the gates as the wall closes behind them.

The icy city behind the walls is as magnificent and ostentatious as their village was depleted and dilapidated, and Zuko understands Sokka’s anger even more thoroughly. As Appa floats slowly down a canal through the middle of the city, Katara moves up to his head to chatter excitedly at Aang about finally learning waterbending from a master.

Sokka, who was sitting against the side of the saddle, arms crossed and scowling, suddenly sits straight up with a gasp.

“What?” Zuko asks.

Sokka just points, mouth agape.

Passing them in a small boat is a girl.

Well, not just a girl.

Her robes are a deep, vibrant blue, almost purple, and intricately embroidered in silver. Her hair, though she can’t be older than Sokka or Zuko, is shock-white, flowing past her shoulders, and pinned half-up with a pearly crescent moon. She looks up and meets Zuko’s eyes for a half-second, and her eyes flash a pale, nearly opaque, blue. Zuko stumbles back into the saddle. Sokka continues staring at her until her boat floats past the bridge.

“She’s beautiful.” Sokka sighs, slumping back down next to him.

“She’s royalty.” Zuko says shortly.

“What? How could you know that? Don’t tell me this is one of your weird, broody, mysterious, forgotten past things, and you- “

Zuko rolls his eyes and gestures up at his own hair, which Katara had braided back for him this morning. “She’s wearing the emblem of a crown princess, dumbass.” He says. “Don’t think you’ve got much of a chance.”

Sokka puffs his chest out. “I’m the son of the _Chief_ , I have plenty of a chance.”

“A chance to get rejected, maybe.” Zuko snorts.

Sokka shoves him over.

* * *

They call the building they direct them to, “the Meeting Hall”, and it’s so absurdly named that Sokka can’t hold back his laughter, while Zuko bites his lip hard enough to draw blood to refrain from doing the same. Katara sends them both an icy glare and bows politely to the aide who meets them out front for all of them.

It’s not a meeting hall. It’s, to put it plainly, a palace. The aide, who introduces himself as Tulok, leads them through high-vaulted hallways decorated with ornate tapestries, and deposits them outside a pair of massive double doors.

“Chief Arnook and the High Council will see you shortly.” He drags his eyes over Sokka, who’s faded anorak has a terribly-repaired rip in the shoulder, and Zuko, eyes lingering on his scar for just a moment too long. “All of you, I suppose.”

He inclines his head towards Aang and disappears down the hallway.

“I like our Tulok better,” Sokka mutters to Zuko.

“Me too.” Zuko says.

Within a few minutes, another aide appears and leads them into the council room.

The meeting house at home is small; it’s simply a hut that can hold most of the village, with a raised platform for whoever is Speaking that day.

This room is, well, not that. It’s as large and imposing as its Chief, who is sitting on a dais in the middle of the room, surrounded by the men Zuko assumes make up the High Council.

“The Avatar,” Arnook says, tilting his head up. “I didn’t think we’d ever see one of those, again.”

“Uh, yes, I am the Avatar.” Aang clears his throat and tries to stand taller.

“And what brings you to our shores, Avatar? After a century of silence, what became so important that you emerged now?”

Aang looks back at them with panicked eyes. Sokka makes a go-on gestures, and Aang turns around, gulping.

“W-well, I’ve only mastered airbending, and waterbending is next, I guess, and well, you see-“

“What Aang is trying to say is that he and I both need to learn waterbending, and we came to your city in hopes of finding a master.” Katara says, stepping forward. “I’m the last Southern waterbender. Aang needs to master all of the elements before summer’s end.”

Silence falls heavy on the room. Katara glances around with a confused look. “Sorry, did you not hear me?” She asks politely. “I said, Aang and I are seeking waterbending masters- “

“Little girl, our customs dictate that women do _not_ speak in Council chambers unless given explicit permission.” An old man to Arnook’s left booms.

The air drops ten degrees, and Katara looks like she may kill someone, or maybe everyone, stepping forward with her eyes narrowed and her mouth open. Zuko personally, would be glad to sit down with some seal jerky and watch it happen, but Sokka grabs Katara’s arm and yanks her back.

“Not now,” He hisses at her. Katara’s face is hardened, and her eyes are shiny with angry, embarrassed tears. She nods once and jerks her arm out of Sokka’s grasp, turning away.

“Katara’s right, though,” Aang says, looking between her and Arnook with a bemused expression. “We do need to learn waterbending so that I can stop the Fire Lord before the end of the summer.”

  
Arnook appraises Aang and nods. “Very well. Our city would, of course, be glad to be of assistance to the Avatar.” He looks over their group, and his eyes land, predictably, on Zuko, who very nearly rolls his eyes. Perhaps Katara would like a companion on her murder rampage.

“And who is this?” Arnook raises an eyebrow. “Forgive me, I know our tribes diverged decades ago, but a Fire Nation child-“

“I’m Southern Water Tribe.” Zuko cuts him off curtly. He tilts his head up and dares Arnook to contradict him, blue beads swinging in front of his scar.

“And he’s with me.” Aang adds firmly. “If I stay here, then Zuko stays, too.”

“As you wish, Avatar.” Arnook says. “I will have someone show you to your guest quarters. Tonight, there is a feast in honor of my daughter, Yue, as she is coming of age. I will introduce you to your master then.”

“Thank you, Chief Arnook.” Aang bows politely, and the second he turns to leave, Katara bolts out of the room.

She’s already pacing up and down the halls when Zuko emerges with Aang and Sokka a moment later.

“How could he _say_ that?” She fumes. “A girl can’t talk in the council room? That’s complete dogshit!”

Sokka gives Zuko a surprised look. Katara had long since given up on getting Zuko and Sokka to stop swearing, but she almost never swore herself.

“It makes no sense.” Zuko agrees.

“It’s their tradition!” Sokka says, but holds up his hands in surrender as Katara whirls around, and amends, “It’s a stupid tradition.”

“Can you imagine someone telling Kanna she couldn’t talk?” Zuko asks, slinging an arm around Katara’s shoulders. Katara lets out a watery laugh and wipes at her eyes.

“She’d destroy them,” She says.

“ _And_ I’d watch her do it.” Zuko says.

* * *

In a turn of events that doesn’t surprise Zuko one bit, the pretty girl from the boat is, in fact, Chief Arnook’s daughter. They’re seated at a table with her, and Sokka has his whole body angled at her, chin in his hands, while she chats politely with Aang, until he gets pulled away by Arnook.  
  
Katara has her eyes locked on the waterbending display in the front of the room, her dinner forgotten in front of her.

“You excited?” Zuko asks as he eyes the bottle of wine the next table over and wonders if anyone would notice if he swiped it.

She doesn’t tear her eyes away to declare, “Yes, finally! Sometimes, I feel like I’m the only bender in the world who didn’t get to train-“

Katara cuts off and glances at him.

“Sorry.” She says quietly.

“Don’t be.” Zuko shrugs. “I can’t exactly waltz into the Fire Nation and demand that someone teach me how to firebend. I sort of lost my chance after Jeong Jeong.”

“Yeah. Guess so. Hey, what was his deal with you, anyways? I meant to ask.”

“Uh,” Zuko says, as his heart begins to hammer in his chest and the sconces on the wall flicker dangerously. “He just thought it was weird I was travelling with the Avatar, since, you know-“ He gestures vaguely at his face.

“Oh. Did you explain the whole ‘found you in a cave’ business?” Katara asks.

“Nah, I just told him I was Water Tribe.”

“As you should.” Katara grins. She jerks her chin over at Sokka, who’s still making goo-goo eyes at Yue. “This is _deeply_ entertaining.”

“So, Princess, huh?” Sokka is saying to her. 

A small smile appears on Yue’s face. “Well, yes, my father is the Chief,” she says. “So, I’m the Princess.”

“My dad’s the Chief back home,” Sokka says, shrugging nonchalantly. “I guess that makes me a prince.”

Katara snorts with laughter, and Sokka whirls around to glare at her.

“Can I help you?” He asks.

“If you’re a prince, then I’m an earthbender.” She says.   
Zuko tries and fails to stifle a laugh at the immediate flush that rises in Sokka’s cheeks.

“Shut up,” Sokka threatens, pointing his dinner knife at them. “I’m trying to make _conversation_.”

“Right, of course,” Zuko bows deeply to him. “My sincerest apologies, Prince Sokka.”

“I hate you both.” Sokka turns back to Yue. “Please excuse my siblings. They’re terminally stupid.”

“No, I think it’s funny!” Yue giggles. “I’m an only child, and I always wanted siblings.”

“You can have mine,” Sokka says darkly, as Katara tries to bend the juice out of Sokka’s cup but loses control and soaks the rabbit meat on his plate. 

He turns back around when a servant stops to speak to Yue, and mutters between clenched teeth, “ _I’ll kill you both.”_

Katara pulls a stream of water from a nearby jug and Zuko allows the smallest flame to escape from behind his teeth, raising his eyebrow. Sokka scowls, makes a gesture Kanna would have slapped him for, and turns his back completely to them.

“So,” He says to Yue. “Wanna do an activity with me?”

* * *

“Great news!” Aang says, flopping down on Zuko’s bed. 

Katara glances up from the mirror, where she’s brushing out her hair. “What’s up?”

“I met our waterbending master! His name is Master Pakku, and we start training tomorrow morning!”

“Finally!” Katara cheers.

“ _And_ Yue and I have a date tomorrow,” Sokka sighs. “I think that’s of equal importance to note.”

“Don’t you mean an activity?” Zuko asks.

“I’ll murder you,” Sokka says lightly.  
  
“Try it.”

“Whatever. I have a date with a princess. Not even a jerkbender like you could bring me down.”

Zuko kicks Aang off his bed. The Avatar only pouts for a few minutes before he acquiesces and goes to his own bed, and Zuko waves out all the candles in the room.

“Bedtime!” He says in response to Katara’s indignant yell. “You and Aang have to be up early tomorrow.”  
  
“I’m not a _baby_ , Zuko-“

“A baby would complain less,” comes Sokka’s muffled voice, and then a distinctive _thump_ , like Katara’s thrown a pillow. “ _And_ babies wouldn’t beat up their poor older brother, who only wants the best for-“

“I’ll go to sleep if you shut up.”

“Deal.”

The room quiets quickly. Zuko turns on his side and stares out the window at the waxing moon, hanging bright in the dark sky, before he closes his own eyes and wills himself to fall asleep.

* * *

He has a nightmare.

That, in and of itself, is not unusual. When he first was found, he would startle awake several times a night, the last vestiges of a dream ebbing from his tearing eyes before he was fully conscious. They diminished as he grew older, and by the time Aang arrive, Zuko rarely had any.

They returned after Kyoshi Island, and then with even more intensity since Jeong Jeong, but it was the same routine as when he was younger- wake up shaking, remember nothing, fall back asleep.

This one’s different.

Zuko bolts up in bed, one hand clamped uselessly to stop the hoarse screaming that’s tearing up his throat.

“Zuko!” Aang is up and running over. “What’s wrong, are you hurt?”

Zuko doesn’t trust himself to answer without screaming. The thin sheen of sweat covering him is mixing with the tears dripping from his right eye and dripping salty into his mouth, the blankets tangled tight around his legs. He rips them off without thinking.

He remembers.

“Zuko?” Sokka props himself up in bed, then throws off his covers and hurries over. “Dude, say something or I’m gonna get a healer.” Sokka sits down next to him and reaches a hand out.

Later, Zuko will be able to recognize that Sokka only meant to put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, reassure him.

Later, Zuko will wonder what in Tui’s name made him think that his _brother_ would ever hurt him.

(Later, Zuko will think, perhaps he already knows what.)

But later is not now, and Zuko can only see someone reaching towards his face, and his heart is hammering in throat, and his scar _burns_ , and he- he _can’t_ -

“Don’t touch me!” He shouts, and that’s what finally wakes Katara up. He shrinks back towards the wall and throws his arms over his face, digs his nails into his skin and shuts his eyes, tight.

It doesn’t make the pain and panic pervading every molecule of his body stop. It doesn’t stop it at all.

“Zuko, it’s just me,” Sokka says, hurt written all over his tone.

“You’re okay, Zuko.” Katara says softly. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

His heart eventually stops tapping out a frantic beat of _run run run_ against his veins, and calms enough that Zuko can open his eyes again. He finds his siblings and Aang in front of him, concern written all over their faces.

“I’m fine. Sorry for waking you.” He croaks out. “Go back to sleep.”

“No, you’re not.” Sokka crosses his arms. “You’ve been acting weird since, like, Kyoshi Island. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.” 

“Zuko, come on, it can’t be anything that bad. Just tell us!” Katara says.

“There’s nothing to tell.” He turns on his side and faces the wall.

“Zuko-“

“ _Go to sleep_.”

It takes a few minutes, but he hears Sokka sigh, and the weight shifts off his bed. The room quiets once more.

Zuko feels around the edges of his scar- where it ends past his deformed ear, where it droops down his left eyelid- and thinks of a hand pressed to his cheek. Gently, at first. Like he cared. And then tight, burning, flames that licked hotter and rose higher the more he screamed, the desperate, clawing terror that bubbled up in his chest like bile, wondering why, _why was no one helping, why wasn’t anyone stopping him, why wasn’t Uncle stopping him-_

Zuko clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle the sobs that rise without permission, and he pulls his blankets tighter around his shaking shoulders.

* * *

Yue’s _beautiful._

Sokka had understood that much when he saw her for the first time, sitting sedately on her boat. But to watch her bright blue eyes shine as he urges Appa higher and higher above the city, the way her skin seems to catch the sun and radiate it’s warmth back out, a thousand times more rich and vibrant, her laughs of delight as she reaches out to touch the clouds-

Sokka thinks she’s almost ethereal.

“This is incredible!” She says breathlessly, turning towards him.

“Yeah, it’s something.” Sokka says, patting Appa’s fur appreciatively. “It can get pretty boring, though.”

“No.” Yue shakes her head. “How could it? You travel the world, see incredible things, do whatever you want...”

She trails off, and Sokka stares at her hair whipping in the wind, at the intricate braids weaved throughout it, the silver cuffs dotting them, the deep blue ribbons that tie them off.

“You’re really beautiful.” He says without thinking. 

Yue flushes and looks away.

“N-not that that’s the only reason I wanted to spend time with you!” He hastily amends. “You seem like a really cool person!”

A small smile appears on her lips. “Thank you,” She says. “You and your siblings seem, ah, cool, too.”

“Oh, absolutely not. They’re the worst. I’m the only cool one.” Sokka grins.

Yue rests her chin on her hands and tilts her head up to look at him. “Your brother,” She says quietly. “He’s not full Water Tribe, is he?”

“Only by blood.” Sokka says shortly. “In every other way, he’s my _brother_ , and he’s Water Tribe.”

Yue’s eyes widen. “Oh! I didn’t mean to imply- I’m sorry, I only meant, well-“ She looks down. “I’ve heard that those with Fire Nation blood don’t do very well in Arctic winters.”

Sokka relaxes a little. “His first winter, he didn’t do well,” he admits. “He almost died, actually. But then it was like something flipped in him, and then he survived. That’s how he was accepted into the tribe. My grandmother said he had a spirit guard.”

“A spirit guard?”

“Yeah, like a spirit was keeping him safe? I used to ask her and my dad about it, but they wouldn’t ever tell me more, and Zuko just clams up every time I ask. Especially lately.”

The nightmare last night had been the worst Zuko had had in _years_. It had stung more than Sokka cared to admit when Zuko shrunk away from him, eyes wide with fear, like he was scared _Sokka_ would hurt him.

“I’m glad he’s connected to a spirit that keeps him safe, and that your tribe accepted him. It can’t be easy for him to have grown up Fire Nation in a Water Tribe village.” Yue’s small hand finds his and squeezes tight. “He’s very lucky to have you, too. You’re a good older brother, Sokka.”

“And you’re a good Princess.” Sokka says. “I think. I haven’t, like, seen you do Princess-y things, but you seem like a good princess. I bet all the people love you.”

Yue laughs, and Sokka thinks he could listen to that sound for the rest of his life and never tire of it.

“I can’t believe your dad let you go with me.” He says as she tilts her head up towards the sun. 

Her cheeks flush. “He, uh, didn’t?” 

“Excuse me.” Sokka says, and wonders if he just kidnapped the Northern Water Tribe Princess, oh shit, oh fuck-

Sokka’s got a whole speech planned about how he can’t be held responsible for the kidnapping of a princess, he has to be _alive_ to help Aang defeat the Fire Lord, thank you very much, but takes one glance at how miserable Yue looks, knees pulled tight to her chest, and stops. 

He wraps Appa’s reins around the hilt and sits down next to her. “It must be hard to be a princess.” 

“It is.” She says, eyes averted. “There’s- there’s a lot, that’s expected of me, as the daughter of the Chief. But I’m sure it was the same for you, at home.”

Sokka snorts. The Chiefdom isn’t passed down at home. Hasn’t been for generations. Though it often does go from parent to child, it wasn’t ever a guaranteed thing, and the new Chief was always voted in by the village at large.

“All it meant was that my cousin Tulok would sometimes throw me headfirst into a snowbank and say it was character development for when _I_ became Chief.” He tells her.

“You didn’t have responsibilities?” Yue asks. 

Sokka shrugs. “Bato- my dad’s second- would sometimes make me come sit in on village meetings, before all our warriors left. But our village is really small. It- it’s not like here.”

He can’t stop the note of bitterness from entering his tone, and Yue stills beside him.

“For what it’s worth,” She says. “I never agreed with our forefathers’ decision to cut off contact with the South.”

“Neither did I. But hey, when you become Chief, you can change that!” 

“When I-” Yue blinks. “ _Girls_ can become Chief in your tribe?”

“Uh, yes?” Sokka says. “They can’t, here?”

“No!” Yue splutters. “It’s not- it’s not our _place-”_

Sokka can’t help himself. He bursts out laughing, and laughs even more when Yue looks at him, all big, blue, confused eyes, round like the moon.

“I’m sorry!” He wheezes out, wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh, I’m not laughing at you- my sister, Katara- I think she would have blown a blood vessel if she heard that.”

Yue half-smiles wryly, and leans closer to him, bumping shoulders.

“I heard about her speaking in the council chambers. Master Pakku told my father he had never been so disgraced.”

Wait.

“Master _who?”_ Sokka says.

“Master Pakku?” Yue says. “He’s the best waterbender in the North. I’m fairly certain he’s the one teaching the Avatar.”

“The Avatar and Katara, you mean,” Sokka corrects.

“No,” Yue frowns. “Master Pakku teaches combat waterbending. Katara will be learning healing under Yugoda.”

“Oh, no.” Sokka groans.

“What’s wrong?”

“Katara _may_ commit a little murder today.”

* * *

Zuko returns from the market to find Katara mid-rant and Aang sprawled out on his bed.

“- _ridiculous!_ What’s supposed to happen when the Fire Nation attacks? The girls are supposed to hide inside while all their big, strong men fight and die and leave them alone?” Katara throws her hands up in the air.

“Uh-oh.” Zuko says, putting his bag down.

“Uh-oh.” Aang affirms.

“Aren’t you two supposed to be at practice?” Zuko asks.

“Pakku won’t _teach me!_ Because I’m a _girl!_ ” Katara yells at him.

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.” Zuko sighs.

“ _What- “_

“Katara, it’s dumb as hell, but they wouldn’t even let you talk, so I doubt they let women fight.”

Katara clamps her mouth shut and flops face first on her bed. “I _hate_ it here.” She says, muffled into her pillow. 

Zuko thinks about the endless stares he was subjected to at the market, the whispers under people’s breath, the one vendor who flat out refused to serve him.“Me too.” He sighs. 

He reaches into his bag and pulls out a bag of moon peaches, throwing one across the room to Aang, and nudging Katara’s shoulder with another. 

She drags her head out from under her pillow and bites into it miserably. “I’m gonna fight him,” she decides around a mouthful of peach.

“Cool.” Zuko agrees.

“Fight who?” Sokka appears in the doorway, a dopey look on his face. “Doesn’t matter. Yue is-“

“Pakku. He won’t teach me.”

“What? No, no- don’t fight him, please, for the love of La, don’t fight him- why don’t you just have Aang teach you, instead?”

“Hey! That’s a good idea!” Aang says. “I get to practice, and you get to learn, still!”

Katara brightens and jumps up, pulling Aang off his bed.“Let’s go right now! I think it’s dark enough that no one will see us!”

Zuko hands Sokka a peach and watches them leave. “I still kinda want to see Katara fight him.” 

“Whatever.” Sokka says. “Dude, seriously, listen, Yue-“

* * *

“We got caught. Pakku says he won’t teach me till Katara and I apologize.”

“I’m _not_ apologizing to him!”

“Katara, who else is Aang gonna learn from?”

“...Fine. I’ll apologize to him.”  
  


* * *

“No _way_ will I apologize to a sour old man like _you_!”

* * *

“I think she might be going for the kill.” Sokka says, eyes fixed on the razor-sharp discs Katara is aiming directly at Pakku’s stupid beard.

“Good for her.” Zuko says, as Pakku turns her attack around, and Katara’s necklace gets sliced off.

* * *

Katara bounds up to them after, loose hair wild about her face, eyes bright, necklace in her hands.

“He’s gonna teach me! I start tomorrow!” She says excitedly.

“I saw!” Aang says, grinning. “Now practices will be fun!”

“ _That_ guy? With Gran-gran?” Sokka says incredulously.

“I can’t see it.” Zuko shakes his head.

“I mean, she did run away.” Sokka reasons. “If it was from Pakku, I can see why she went to the other side of the world.”

* * *

After Sokka spends several hours gushing about how _cool_ and _pretty_ and _smart_ Yue is ( _several_ hours. Zuko is close to sewing his brother’s mouth shut), Katara demands to meet her, and Aang decides to extend a formal invitation for the Princess of the Northern Water Tribe to meet the Avatar for dinner.

For diplomatic reasons only, of course. Not because Katara is suspicious about how Sokka managed to have not one, but now _four_ dates with a literal Princess without scaring her off, and Aang is incapable of telling Katara ‘no’. Not at all.

“What was it like, growing up in the South?” She asks. “I’ve never left the city, except for short trips to some of the smaller towns.”

Katara shrugs. “It was normal, I guess. We hunted, we cooked, we had lessons.” She leans forward, narrowing her eyes. “Oh! Has Sokka told you about the time he slept-walked into a village meeting without his pants on?”

Aang meets Zuko’s eyes over the table and they both look away, holding in laughs. The Sokka in question was twelve years old and coming off a bad fever, and Zuko and Katara had both been off playing when they were supposed to be keeping an eye on him.

“He did _what_?” Aang demands, giggling.

Yue laughs and leans over to Sokka, bumping her shoulder with his. “Yes, he did. I thought it was very cute.”

“There was nothing cute about it!” Katara says. “Remember, Zuko? Dad was _furious_ with us.”

“Yeah.” Zuko grins. “He only yelled at you, though.”

Katara rolls her eyes. “Honestly, I’m pretty sure by the time he left, you were his favorite kid. And I had a ten-year head start!” 

“Oh, were you not born in the village, Zuko?” Yue asks.

“Uh-“ Zuko looks down. He’s honestly not sure how to answer that, and the question itself is enough to make his heart pitch up in tempo.

“Zuko had an accident when he was little,” Sokka cuts in. “He lost his memory, so we’re not sure, but he was raised with Katara and me.”

Zuko flashes him a grateful smile and is even more grateful when Yue seems to accept that without question and moves on to Aang.

“What about you, Aang? I’m sure it hasn’t been easy- the world must be so different than you remember."

Aang gives her one of those small, sad smiles that always seem too heavy for his twelve-year-old face.

“It is,” He says, and glances at Katara. “But some things are the same.”

“I’m ashamed to say I don’t know much about Air Nomad culture. What was it like to grow up in the temple?” Yue asks, smiling gently.

“It was so great! I was raised in the Southern Air Temple, and we had these great Air Ball tournaments, and Gyatso and I used to fly to the top of the mountain, just to watch the sunrise…”

Yue gets up and returns with a pot of tea, pouring cups for the table. Aang wraps his hands around his cup and pulls it close, eyes lit up as he describes the last great festival he was able to celebrate with his people.  
  


* * *

Sokka makes Aang and Katara go to bed soon after dinner ends, citing early morning practice as his excuse. Zuko is fairly certain he has an ulterior motive and is vindicated with Sokka produces the two bottles of wine they swiped a few nights ago, grinning wildly.

“Where did you get those?” Yue asks, eyes wide. Sokka shrugs nonchalantly.

“Oh, you know. A guy has his ways.”

“He stole it from the kitchens.” Zuko says. “I was there.”

Yue laughs and accepts the cup from Sokka as they sit down in front of the fire.

“Thanks for asking Aang about that stuff.” Sokka says suddenly. “I think it’s been really hard for him, lately. It really helps when he talks about it.”

“Of course,” Yue shakes her head. “I can’t imagine what that’s like. Waking up in a foreign place, totally removed from everything you ever knew.

“Yeah.” Sokka says, and Zuko sees him glance at him from the corner of his eye. 

“What about you?” Zuko asks Yue abruptly.

“What about me?”

“What’s it like growing up royalty?”

“Oh.” Yue says, and takes a sip of the wine. She wrinkles her nose. “Oh my- Sokka, this is terrible.”

“Hey, I took it from your kitchens, Princess. Blame it on your own poor taste.”

Yue elbows Sokka in a decidedly un-princess-y way, and Zuko shakes his head, uncomprehending. Aren’t royals supposed to be, you know, full of themselves? Cold? Concerned with their own power and status, and not much else? He takes a long draught of the wine. Tui, it really is terrible.

“To answer your question, Zuko, it was, ah, a lot.” Yue says. “I’m my father’s only daughter. So, I had a lot of privileges, but also a great deal of responsibility on my shoulders.”

“You’re amazing, though.” Sokka says, and _gross_ , he’s making the goo-goo eyes again.

“I’m just me, Sokka.” Yue says. “I do my best, but you know, I’m not perfect.”

“You have to be.” Zuko says without thinking. He realizes both Yue and Sokka are staring at him and starts. “I-I just meant- you know, everyone’s eyes are on you and your father- you can’t make mistakes. You can’t be weak. You know?”

“I see what you’re saying.” Yue says thoughtfully. “Yes, I’ve felt that, certainly. It can be hard to feel like you’re allowed to mess up when everyone expects you to be the standard that others are held to.”

“Hm.” Sokka says and looks slowly between the two. “I think there’s some mochi left over from dinner. I’m gonna go get it.”

He vaults over the back of the couch and Yue watches him go with a small smile on her face. She looks over at Zuko with those pale blue eyes with a quiet intensity that seems to bore right through his chest.

“Your hair is unique; I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” Yue says.

Zuko shrugs. “It’s been like this for as long as I can remember.”

“Mine too.” She gives a half-smile, almost wry. “Forgive me if this is forward, but Sokka told me you have a spirit guard?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Me, too.” Yue says, and that surprises him enough that he actually looks up to meet her eyes, almost luminous from the moonlight shining from the window, the white hair that frames her face.

“Tui.” Zuko says.

Yue nods. “I- I haven’t told Sokka, yet. Please don’t tell him.”

“As long as you don’t tell him I’m fairly certain mine is Agni.”

“I thought as much,” Yue says, and Zuko snorts.

“What, did the hair give it away?”

“No, actually.” She says, tilting her head. “You have this- this _warmth_ , Zuko. I don’t really know how to describe it. You’re just very bright.”

Zuko looks away, suddenly unable to handle the enormity of her gaze.

“I don’t feel very warm. I don’t even know _why_ Agni chose _me._ ” He mumbles to the carpet.

“It’s not always clear, right away, why the spirits do what they do.” Yue says quietly. “I think we just have to hope that their purpose for us becomes clear with time.”

“Yeah,” Zuko says, as Sokka comes back in the room, arms laden with far more sweets than just mochi. “I hope so.”  
  


* * *

A few weeks into Katara and Aang’s training, Sokka drags Zuko to the market.

“We’re not spending much,” Zuko warns his brother, who’s eying a deep blue sleeveless tunic with wide eyes. Sokka shakes his head and pulls Zuko along into the next shop.

“Doesn’t matter. We’re only here for one thing.”

“We are?” Zuko says blankly. Sokka is a notorious impulse buyer; Katara’s taken to wearing the coin purse on her person anytime they go shopping. Zuko has never known Sokka to go the market unsupervised and come back with only the things he claimed he went for.

Sokka nods and stops abruptly in front of a display of ribbons.

“A necklace for Yue.” He pulls a small silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon out of his pocket. “I found this last week. I just need a ribbon to place it on. Ah! That one!”

The ribbon Sokka is pointing at is a beautiful pale blue, almost exactly the shade of Yue’s eyes, and embroidered carefully with white-silver thread.

“A wonderful choice, young man! I’m sure whatever lucky lady you’re proposing to will be ecstatic.” The shopkeeper says cheerfully as he pulls out the ribbon to cut it for him

“Proposing.” Sokka repeats.

“Well, yes? You’re getting a ribbon for an engagement necklace.”

“Oh, no, no- “ Sokka flushes. “It’s just a regular necklace! No engagement!”

“Sure, whatever you say,” The shopkeeper shrugs and hands Sokka the wrapped ribbon. As he’s counting out the money Sokka hands him, he looks up and meets Zuko’s eye, and his expression changes completely.

“Out of my shop.” The man says, angry. 

“What?” Sokka asks.

“Him. Out, now.” The shopkeeper says, pointing at Zuko. “I don’t particularly want my shop in ashes today. _Out.”_

“Hey, asshole-“

“Sokka, let’s just go-“ Zuko mumbles, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him out of the shop.

“He can’t talk to you like that!” Sokka says furiously.

“He can, actually.” Zuko says and continues frog-marching his brother down the busy market street.

“It’s not right-“

“Sokka.”

Zuko stops in the middle of the street and whirls around. He points at his unmistakably golden eye. “I look like I’m fucking Fire Nation. I get it, okay? It’s not like this is the first time this has happened.”

Sokka stares at him.

“This has happened to you before? _Here_?”

Zuko says nothing, and that’s enough of a response.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Sokka demands.

“Would it have changed anything?” Zuko asks. “Aang and Katara need to learn. We can’t exactly pick up and leave.”

“Well, no, but, Zuko-“

“Sokka, I look like the enemy.”

“But you didn’t do any of that stuff.”

“How would you even know?” Zuko asks roughly. “There’s eleven years to account for before I got to the village.”

He turns around, fully intending to lose his brother in the crowd, but Sokka grabs his shoulder and spins him.

“What did you remember?” He asks quietly, his hand tight on his shoulder.

“N-nothing, I just-“

“Zuko. The nightmare last month. What did you remember?”

“ _Nothing_ , Sokka.” Zuko rips his arm away.

“I don’t know what it is you’re not telling me, but-“

“It’s NOTHING!” Zuko shouts, and flames definitely lick the sides of his mouth. 

The street has stilled around them, and Zuko can’t handle Sokka’s angry, hurt stare, the silence that’s fallen over the market like a thick fog, the static in his head, so Zuko turns on his heel, and he runs.  
  


* * *

  
Zuko’s outburst at the market does little to dampen Sokka’s worry, but when Sokka walks into their rooms a few hours later and finds him there, quiet and broody, but completely safe, he shrugs it off. He has other things to worry about.

Like his date with Yue.

If Sokka thought she was pretty in the day, she’s resplendent at night. In the pale glow of the near-full moon, she _shines_.

“I got you something,” Sokka says, leaning against the bridge.

“You didn’t have to get me anything!” Yue grins.

“I wanted to!” He pulls the necklace out of his pocket and unwraps it, handing to her. “I just- I wanted you to have something from me.”

Yue stares at the necklace in his hands. And then she bursts into tears.

“Oh, oh no!” Sokka scrambles closer to her. “Oh, is it ugly? The shopkeeper said the ribbon was pretty- though he did turn out to be sort of an asshole- doesn’t matter, I can take it back-”

Yue shakes her head and clutches the necklace to her chest. “It’s _beautiful_.” She says emphatically. “I love it.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Yue bites her lip and looks down. “I- I’ve been putting this off for so long. I just. I really, really like you, Sokka.”

“Hey, I like you too,” He says softly, taking her hand in his and squeezing.

Yue shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath, like she’s preparing herself for the pain of getting a broken bone set, a bandage ripped off, and pulls down the high-necked fur of her amauti. An ornate, clunky pendant sits at the base of her throat, a little too ostentatious and a little too big.

Sokka stares at it, something curdling in his stomach.

“You- you’re engaged.” He says, finally. Yue turns away, hugging herself.

“Since my birthday.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s arranged.” She says hollowly, her head bowed. “It’s been planned since I was fourteen. And I- I like you, Sokka.”

“Yue- Yue, that’s not right-“

“It’s my duty. To my people.”

“What about your duty to yourself?” Sokka insists. “Do you love him?”

Silence.

“Do you even _like_ him?”

More silence.

“Oh, damn it all to Koh, have you even met the-“

“Yes, I’ve met him.” Yue says, and it’s closest Sokka has come to hearing her snap. “Arranged marriages are expected of my family, Sokka. I can’t expect you to understand that, but please respect it. This is how I serve my people, and my personal feelings- no matter how _strong_ they may be- will always come second.”

Sokka grips the railing of the bridge and stares down into the icy water below. What was it that stupid fortune teller had told him? That his future would be full of pain and suffering, most of it caused by himself?

Guess she got one thing right.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Sokka says quietly. “I hope we can remain friends.”

Yue lifts his chin, and when Sokka meets her eyes, they’re bright with unshed tears.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” She says. She places the necklace back in his hands and curls his fingers around it. “You should keep this for someone who really deserves it.”

“But _you_ really deserve it.”

Yue smiles so painfully gentle at him, and Sokka doesn’t know whether he wants to burst into tears or grab her face and kiss her until the world and its obligations dissolve around them like the gray snow falling soft and slow, melting as it reaches Yue’s eyelashes.

Wait.

Gray snow.

Sokka snaps his head up, his heart starting to race a warning in his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Yue asks, and then looks up. “Oh, that’s so odd. Gray snow? I’ve never seen that before.”

“It’s not just gray snow. It’s soot. From coal.” Sokka says, grabbing her hand and starting back towards the door that leads back to the Meeting Hall. “The Fire Nation is coming. We have to tell your dad.”  
  


* * *

The preparations move terrifyingly quickly once Sokka gets the word out about the impending attack, which is confirmed with scouts, and within a day, Zuko is sitting in the Meeting Hall, arms crossed tight over his chest, as Sokka stands to take his place with the other young men. They’d decided the night before it was safer for everyone if Zuko didn’t volunteer, but that doesn’t make him feel any less cowardly.

There’s a grimly determined look on Katara’s face as she sits between him and Aang, doing and undoing her arm wraps as Sokka gets his Mark of Commitment.

“It’ll be okay.” Zuko murmurs to her.

“I’m ready to fight.” Katara says and sets her jaw.  
  
Zuko looks up and catches Yue’s eye, from where she sits at her father’s right hand. She looks at him steadily, her eyes shiny but resolute, and somehow, Zuko thinks, she’s ready for battle too.

* * *

The day the Fire Nation attacks, Zuko doesn’t see Sokka. He wakes up in the pale light of an unrisen sun, and carefully paints a crescent moon on Katara’s forehead as she finishes tying her braid off. She does the same for him, and then throws her arms around his shoulders.

“It’s all gonna be okay.” She says, firm, and Zuko can’t tell who she’s trying to convince.

* * *

Aang takes off on his glider as the ships draw near, determined to do the most damage he possibly can before they can attack, and he doesn’t return until sunset, until Katara has exhausted herself by going in between the healing hut to help Yugoda and the outer wall, while Zuko has spent most of the day putting out fires.

He lands on the wall, his clothes singed and torn, blood dried on his cheek.

“Aang!” Katara hurries forward.

“There’s too many of them.” He mumbles, exhausted. Katara wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Way too many for me to take out. I tried, I promise, I really tried-“

  
“No, you did what you could. You did good.” Zuko says. He takes Aang’s other arm before he collapses fully. He looks up and finds dark circles under his sister’s eyes. “You both did.”  
  
Katara gives him a weary smile and drops her head forward against Aang’s. Zuko glances up at the rising moon becoming visible, and the dark line of ships halted a few miles offshore.

“Let’s go get some rest. They’d be stupid to attack us now.”

* * *

Zuko gently lays Aang down on his bed, pulls away the scorched outer layer of his robes, and covers him with furs.

“Thank you,” Yue says quietly to a servant at the door and returns to the room with a tray laden with food and tea. Her father had kept her in the Meeting Hall to keep her safe, and she had met them at the door. “They passed along a message from my father. He confirmed that the attack seems to have stopped for the night, so you all should be safe to rest.”

“Thanks, Yue.” Zuko says. He turns to his younger sister, who’s eyes are half-lidded as she sits next to Aang, her shoulders slumped. 

“Katara,” Zuko starts.

“‘M not _tired_.” She says, stubborn, and Zuko has a sudden vision of her, four years younger, fat on her cheeks and a crooked little smile.

“Doesn’t matter.” He says. He gently pushes her down towards the pillow. “You may not have another opportunity to sleep. I’ll wake you up to eat in a while, okay?”

“J-just-“ A yawn cuts her off. “Just a minute, okay?”

“Yeah, just a minute.” Zuko confirms softly.

Her eyes finally close. Zuko pulls the blanket up to her shoulders, eyes the smudged moon on her forehead, and smooths back the errant hairs on her forehead.

When he leaves the bedroom, shutting the door behind him, he finds Yue sitting in front of the fireplace, knees drawn to her chest. She looks over at him with red eyes.

“You’re a good brother.” She says.

“I haven’t really been, lately. I’m sure Sokka’s been complaining.” He says and sits down next to her.

Yue shakes her head, wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“No. I think he’s just worried about you.” She says, and smiles a watery, joyless smile. “I definitely didn’t help.”

Zuko sighs. “I heard about that. I’m really sorry, Yue.”

“Me too.” Yue says, and it sounds like she’s biting back a sob.

The door swings open. Sokka drags himself in, hair half-out of its wolf’s tail. He collapses on the rug in front of them.

“Your dad kicked me off the mission.” He says into the rug, by way of explanation. He turns his head towards Yue. “Oh, and I met your fiancé. Charming guy.”  
  
Yue raises her eyebrows and prods gently at a split in Sokka’s eyebrow, bleeding sluggishly.

“That was a parting gift from Hahn.” Sokka sighs.

“Please tell me he looks worse.” Zuko says.

“‘Course he does.” Sokka says dismissively. “Why do you think I got kicked off the mission?” He sits up and pulls the plate of food towards him. “Your dad gave me a new one, though. I’m supposed to protect you until the invasion’s over.”

Yue flushes a light pink. “Oh-“ she says. “Th-that’s good!”

“I’m gonna keep you safe.” Sokka says, and his voice hardens. “I promise.”

* * *

Aang and Katara end up only sleeping a few hours past sunset. When they rise, Aang sits himself in front of the fire, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, and eats a vegetable stew while mindlessly staring into the flames.

“We need help.” He says. “There’s too many of them.”

“Well, yes?” Zuko says blankly, glancing out the window to where he can just make out the dark shapes of the ships. “But there’s no one to get help from-“

“No, no, I mean- I’m the _Avatar_.” Aang amends.

“Got that much, bud.” Sokka says.

“No!” Aang scowls. “I’m the Avatar! I could ask the _spirits_ for help! Tui and La patronize the Water Tribes, right? Maybe they could help us!”

“Oh! That’s...not a bad idea.” Zuko says.

“But how are you going to contact them?” Katara asks as she finishes her braid and ties it off. “You’ve had a really hard time getting into the spirit world in the past.”

“I think I can help with that, actually.” Yue says. “Let me show you something.”

* * *

Yue leads them to a sanctuary, hidden deep in the heart of the capital buildings. The heat hits Zuko like a wall, and he has to blink a few times to process what he’s seeing in front of him. The place is lush and green, a small forest of bamboo in the back, a pond in the middle of the grass.

“How is it so warm?” Katara asks in a hushed, reverential tone.

“This is the center of spirituality in the North.” Yue says. “It’s a closely guarded secret. Only a few people know of its existence.”

She leads them along a stone path to the pond, where two koi, one a deep, almost black, blue, and one white, swim endlessly in a circle.

“It’s perfect.” Aang says. “If there’s anywhere I can get into touch with the spirits, it’s here.”

He sits himself in front of the pond and bows his head. They watch, silent, as his tattoos glow, and Aang straightens up as if shocked, and slumps down into his shoulders.

* * *

For a few hours, the waiting is almost unbearable. Aang doesn’t move from his position by the pond. Katara practices pulling water out of the thick, humid air. Sokka patrols the perimeter of the sanctuary, boomerang in hand. Yue eventually sheds her amauti and joins Sokka. When she returns, her eyes are red.

“Is everything alright?” Katara asks.

“He’s- he’s still hurt.” She says. “I can’t really blame him.”

“Sokka said you don’t even like the guy you’re marrying. Why are you doing it, then?” Katara asks curiously.

“I have to think about the future of my people. Hahn is from a good, strong family. He will help keep our city safe in the future. Whether or not he will be a good husband to me is irrelevant.”

“And what about what you want?” Zuko asks. From the other side of the sanctuary, Zuko sees something flash blue and silver in Sokka’s hand before he shoves it back down in his pocket.

“My people come first.” Yue says firmly. “To be a Princess is a privilege and an honor. If I don’t use my station to serve my people, then I’m not worthy of it.”

“Even a people who don’t see you as equal.” Zuko says flatly. “Who ignored your sister tribe as they were destroyed by the Fire Nation. They don’t deserve your loyalty.”

Yue shakes her head. “It’s not about the wrongs my tribe has committed, or the problems caused by our past chiefs. It’s really not even about _deserve_. I love my people, and I’ll do what I can to protect them, whenever I can.”

Zuko stares at her. Something is stirring deep in his chest, hot and uncomfortable, and he has his mouth open to respond- though he doesn’t know how- when the sounds of a muffled fight come in from outside the sanctuary door.

“Guys?” Sokka calls as he jogs back over. Katara scrambles to her feet and steps in front of Yue. Zuko glances over. Aang is still motionless. He allows the flames that have been straining along his chi line to burst out on his palms as smoke drifts in from under the door and the yelling becomes more acute.

“Get ready.” Zuko mutters.

The door splinters, and then cracks and is kicked in. Black smoke billows in, and Fire Nation soldiers march in, followed by two men in elaborate uniforms.

The taller of the two smirks.

“Zhao.” Zuko snarls.

“Ah, the little half-breed!” Zhao says. “I thought someone would have killed you by now. No matter. I’m glad to take care of it myself.” He steps forward, but the shorter, older man next to him stops him.

He looks at Zuko with deep golden eyes, face slack.

“Zuko?” He croaks out. “Is it really you?”

Zuko lowers his hands, staring at the man.

“Uncle?”

* * *

It has to be Zuko.

By Agni’s great light, it must be.

His father’s high cheekbones, his mother’s light eyes, his grandfather’s black hair- though with an odd golden streak in the middle, his own _burn_.

It covers half the boy’s face, only slightly hidden by the traditional Water Tribe beads hanging in front of it. One of his eyes is permanently narrowed by scar tissue and lightened to an opaque white.

He’s older.

Iroh isn’t sure why he expected that his nephew would still be twelve, other than that he is still half-convinced that time stood still the moment Zuko took his last breath, and only just now started moving forward again.

But he’s older, dressed in Water Tribe garb, and he looks fiercely determined as he throws out his arm to keep the Water Tribe girl behind him, and absolutely nothing like the sickly child in the hospital bed, too small for his burn-covered body, deliriously begging for someone to take away his pain.

And he’s alive, alive, _alive._

Iroh wants to fall to his knees and scream thanksgiving at any spirit that will listen. He wants to rush forward and gather the child in his arms and _never_ let go. He wants to take him away from this place, to somewhere this war can never touch him again, to somewhere fire can never turn his skin to coal again.

Iroh does none of that. He makes a motion for the soldiers behind him to remain still and he takes a small step forward. “Zuko, do you remember me?” He asks quietly. Zuko’s eyes widen.

“N-no!” He says, clearly uncertain. “No, I don’t know you.”

“You just called me Uncle.” Iroh says softly.

“I DON’T KNOW YOU!” Zuko shouts.

“Zuko.” Iroh says, and takes another step forward, hands held out in surrender in front of him. “Zuko, do you know who you are?”

“I’m Zuko of the Southern- of the Southern Water Tribe.” He says, his voice wavering.

“No.” Iroh shakes his head. “I am so grateful you were kept safe by them, but you are not-“

“You don’t know me.”

“You are Crown Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation-” Iroh says firmly.

“No,” The Water Tribe boy behind Zuko says.

“ _Leave me alone!”_

“-and you are my nephew!”

Zuko _roars_ and punches forward, letting out a burst of hot flames that stop just short of Iroh’s face.

“Okay,” Zhao sighs. “I’ve had enough of this little show. Let’s do what we came here for.”

* * *

All hell breaks loose.

The soldiers run forward, hands lit. Zuko steps in front of Katara and throws up his hands as a blast of fire heads towards her, diverting it around him and back at the soldier who threw it.

“I don’t need _your_ protection.” Katara growls. She wrenches off his arm and lifts a great wave of water up to freeze the soldiers advancing in their paths.

Zuko only has a second to feel the sting of the ice in Katara’s tone before he spots Zhao heading around the chaos of the battle towards Aang.

“Zhao!” He screams and begins to sprint, but before he can get close, Zhao has kicked Aang over and knelt by the pond. He scoops the white Koi out of the pond and holds it over his head, and, like someone's doused it in blood, the moon turns a deep, violent red.

Behind him, Yue falls.

Sickly understanding cracks in Zuko’s head. Sokka lets out a hoarse yell and scrambles forward to catch her.

“Years ago,” Zhao says, grinning wildly. “I stumbled upon the great lost library of Wan Shi Tong. In it, I found ancient scrolls that told of knowledge that was beyond the comprehension of any human alive. I found that many of the great spirits had chosen to take mortal forms, and that among these were the moon and the ocean."

He turns, with a terrifying glint in his eyes. “I told you, Iroh. I told you that I’d make history! Everyone will know the name of Zhao, the moon slayer!”

"Zhao!" Iroh says, two hands out. "You don't know what you're doing. The Fire Nation needs the moon, too. To meddle with the spirits like this will only bring destruction!”

"Ah, Iroh." Zhao tuts, squeezing the koi tighter. Yue gasps in pain. "Destruction is the goal. Without the moon, there can be no waterbending. Without waterbending- well, there is no Water Tribe, is there?” 

"Whatever you do to that spirit, I will unleash tenfold on you." Iroh says, low and raging, and somehow, Zuko doesn't think he's bluffing. 

Zhao's eyes widen in fear, and for a moment, it seems he's going to comply. Then, with a great yell, he whips fire onto the fish. The koi goes still in his hands. Without warning, the moon disappears from view, and the sky goes black.

“Oh,” Yue gasps, and drops, slack, in Sokka’s arms.

Iroh rushes forward towards Zhao, fire alight on both his fists, and the two begin to fight with the quick, harsh movements of masters without reservation.

Aang’s tattoos return to their bright blue, and he suddenly scrambles up.

“Guys! The moon spirit’s in trouble!” Aang glances up at the sky, his face falling. “Oh.”

Zhao makes a break for the sanctuary door, followed by the rest of the soldiers, and Iroh doesn’t follow them, Zuko notices, as he hurries to where Sokka is holding Yue, by the edge of the pond.

“There really is no hope now.” Yue says weakly. Sokka tightens his arms around her, buries his face in her hair.

Aang’s face hardens. He kneels down at the edge of the pond.

“Maybe there still is.” He says. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, and when he opens them again, they glow a blinding white. He steps into the pond. The water swirls around his legs, lifting him up and surrounding his body, until he’s fully encased.

The spirit of La steps out of the pond and _bellows_ , leaving a watery trail as it stomps out of the sanctuary. Katara watches him go, fear written all over her face.

Iroh kneels at the edge of the pond and gently places the koi back in the pond. It floats, unmoving, the great black burn a mar on its white scales.

“It’s not working.” Katara says, as she desperately tries to waterbend, and can’t move a drop. “I-I can’t feel anything”

“What are we supposed to do?” Sokka asks hollowly.

Iroh looks up at Yue with a grim expression, and something constricts in Zuko’s chest. He can’t- he can’t ask that of her.

“No-“ Zuko starts, but Iroh interrupts him.

“You’ve been touched by the moon spirit.” He says.

Yue bows her head.

Zuko knows the end.

“Yes.” She says quietly.

“Wh-what?” Sokka says.

“I was stillborn.” Yue says, staring at the koi. “My parents begged Tui for mercy, and on the night of the full moon, my father placed me in the pond. My hair turned white, I opened my eyes, and I began to cry. That's why my mother named me Yue." She turns to Sokka, placing a soft hand on his cheek. "For the moon.”

She takes a deep breath and steps forward. “The moon gave me life. Perhaps I can give it back.”

“What? No!” Sokka grabs her wrist. “No, I told your dad I’d keep you safe. I won’t let you-“

“Sokka,” Yue’s voice is firm, sad. “I have to. Without the moon, my people will die.”

“Yue.” He says, and his voice cracks.

Yue turns and holds her forehead to his.“Do you still have that necklace?” She asks. Sokka nods and pulls it out of his pocket. When he clasps it around her neck, his hands shake. Yue bites back a sob, one hand over the crescent pendant.

“It’s the greatest gift I’ve ever been given.” She says. Sokka shuts his eyes tight, then places his hands on both sides of her head and kisses her forehead.

Yue pulls away while his eyes are still closed. She lays both of her hands on the koi.

The burn heals under her grasp, and the koi glows, wriggling in Iroh’s hands. Yue’s eyes roll to the back of her head, and she drops to the ground.

“NO!” Sokka screams. He falls to his knees and catches her prone body, holds it tight to his chest. He presses his fingers to wrist. “She- she’s _gone_.”

Iroh places the koi back into the pond, where it resumes its never-ending circle. Yue’s body disappears from Sokka’s arms, and the entire pond begins to glow. A white cloud forms above, and then takes the shape of-

Yue. Floating above the ground, her skin turned to white-glow, her robes bright and flowing.

She drifts forward to Zuko. He stares, uncomprehending, as she reaches forward and touches his burn with an opaque finger.

"Light-child." She says, and her voice echoes, as though it isn't really hers. "Do not fear your fate, Prince Zuko. You are blessed by the sun, and the moon will cast its light upon you as well."

Zuko bows his head, can't do anything but shut his eyes and try not to scream.

He hears Yue say, "I'll always be with you, Sokka."

His brother gasps, lets out a sob, and Zuko wrenches his eyes open.

A full, white moon hangs high in the sky. Sokka crumples to his knees, staring up at it, and Katara falls next to him, wrapping her arms around him. Zuko moves forward, but Iroh catches his arm.

“Oh, Zuko.” He says softly. “I’ve missed you so dearly, my nephew.”

“I’m not-“

Zuko can’t even finish his lie, in the glow of Yue’s light.

“If you truly don’t remember me, then this must be a lot to take in. You must have questions. But if the Princess was right, and you are blessed by Agni herself, then perhaps that is why you are here.”

Zuko searches the old man's face for anything that would make it permissible for him to wrench his arm out his grasp and join his siblings, beg their forgiveness for his blood, but he finds nothing but sincerity and sorrow.

"You didn't stop him." Zuko says hoarsely, instead. "He was going to kill me. You didn't stop him."

Iroh's face twists into something painful.

"Prince Zuko- that is one of my greatest regrets, please believe me. I would give anything to change the outcome of that-"

“No. Y-you watched me _burn._ ” Zuko pulls away from him. “I don’t want _anything_ to do with you.” 

Iroh stares at him.

“I have spent four years trying to stop what happened to you from happening to your younger sister. To the rest of the world. Please. I beg of you. Now that I've found you- I can't let you out of my sight. Please come with me."

Zuko fights down hysterical laughter that bubbles up in his chest. “Fuck you.” He says, and he turns on his heel.

“Very well.” Iroh says. His voice shakes. “I will see you soon, my nephew.”

Zuko doesn’t respond, can’t even stop the way his hands are trembling uncontrollably. The footsteps behind him fade out, and he’s left, staring at the backs of his siblings.

He sits down at Sokka’s side and places a careful hand on his shaking shoulder.

Sokka tears away from him as though his touch burns, and Zuko can’t stop the sob that escapes his throat as he pulls his hand back and stares down at his palms, blood dried into brown constellations against his palm.

* * *

A world away, the Princess of the Fire Nation kneels before her father, eyes fixed on the ground.

"Rise." The Fire Lord says. Azula lifts her head, not daring to meet his gaze. The flames surrounding the throne cast his face into deep shadow. 

"What was it you needed me for, Father?" She asks.

Ozai leans forward. "I'm sure you've heard reports of the failed invasion in the North."

"Yes, Father."

"I have just received word that your Uncle, coward that he is, has finally turned traitor."

"Father-"

" _Silence!"_

Azula shuts her mouth tight.

"Additionally, there is news that an... _impostor_ , is claiming to be your brother."

Azula stays silent. She had heard rumors that a scarred boy traveling with the Avatar who claimed to be named Zuko was found in the North.

But Azula had stayed in her seat in the Agni Kai chambers as everyone rushed out around her, and watched her brother writhe in agony, screaming, until he was sedated. 

Azula had stood at the funeral and watched her brother burn.

The impostor isn't her brother.

(He can't be.)

"You are to find your uncle and bring him to justice, and find the impostor, and _dispose_ of him."

"Yes, Father." She inclines her head again. "I won't let you down."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you guys aware of what murphys law is.
> 
> anyways i apply it liberally when im writing :)


	7. The Great Walls of Ba Sing Se

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I met some dude out in the forest who said he knew you,” Toph says conversationally. 
> 
> Zuko stops dead in his tracks. “You what?” He demands. 
> 
> “An old dude?” Toph makes a face. “He was really nice. Kept going on about you. Gave me some tea.” 
> 
> “And you drank it?” 
> 
> “Yeah? I’m not inhospitable, Zuko. Spirits, what do they teach in Fire Nation etiquette classes-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coming to you live from the middle of my biotechnology lecture- it's t̶r̶a̶p̶ ̶b̶u̶n̶n̶y̶ ̶b̶u̶b̶b̶l̶e̶s̶ chapter 7!!
> 
> this baby boy gave me so much grief i honestly was about to put it up for adoption but my beta @agentcalliope (tumblr and ao3) convinced me to keep him.

* * *

The bitter work of recovery starts the morning after Yue’s sacrifice. 

It takes Sokka almost an hour to speak after it happens, and even then, it’s only to say, “We need to go find Aang.” 

Katara nods, wipes her tears, pulls Sokka up, and keeps her arm wrapped around him as they leave the sanctuary. 

Zuko doesn’t follow. 

He stays for a long while, kneeling in the warm grass, eyes fixed on the moon, and the static crests over his brain like a tsunami, breaking down any coherent thought into small, jagged edges that gash where they hit his skull. 

Uncle. 

Azula. 

Mom. 

Yue. 

Sokka. Katara, Aang- 

Zuko takes a shaky breath and looks sharply up at the moon, beginning to dip towards the lightening horizon. “Keep them safe,” he implores softly. “Help them.” 

And then he gets up, and he sets about putting a city ruined by his own blood back together.   
  


* * *

The casualty list grows longer by the hour. Katara, once she locates Aang collapsed on the shore, and forcibly confines him to a bed, sets about helping Yugoda with the injured. Sokka disappears when Arnook calls for him, and returns hours later with his eyes red and downcast. He leaves to help prepare the bodies of the dead for funeral rites without saying a word to anyone. 

Zuko can’t- he can’t. 

He can’t stand the way they refuse to make eye contact. The quiet sobs Sokka thinks he’s hiding, late at night. The way Katara snaps at everything. 

He can’t. 

* * *

Yue rises, and she sets, and the world turns on.

Even though, Zuko thinks, sometimes it shouldn’t. 

* * *

He climbs to the roof late one night, a few days before they’re set to leave. It’s quiet up here. Zuko can see the waterbenders working to repair the outer wall, the tops of the temporary igloos built for displaced families. He draws his knees to his chest, and closes his eyes, and- 

“They’ll come around, you know.” 

Zuko whips his head around. Aang is sitting cross-legged a few feet away. There are dark shadows under his bloodshot eyes. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be out of bed.” 

Aang shrugs. “I’m the Avatar. They can’t just keep me in the infirmary.” 

“Katara can.” 

Aang goes pink, but doesn’t respond. He pushes himself to his feet and sits down next to Zuko. “It’s just a lot for them, I think.” Aang says softly. 

Tears prick at Zuko’s eyes, and he looks away. “I understand.” He says, rough. 

“No, you don’t.” Aang says. “Zuko, you didn’t do anything wrong-” 

“I was born.” Zuko cuts in. 

The air is sharp tonight. It stings at his wet eyes, pricks at his throat. It’s almost like being home. 

“Zuko,” Aang says. “Zuko, that’s not fair.” 

“The world isn’t fair, Aang. I wish- I wish you didn’t have to learn this so early, you’re only _twelve_ , but it’s not fair, and it’s not good, and I was born a prince of the Fire Nation.” Zuko takes a sharp breath. “And that’s enough.” 

“There is good,” Aang insists, moving closer. “It might be hard to see right now, but there’s good. Zuko, the Fire Nation wasn’t always bad.” 

“That was a century ago. Things have changed.” Zuko says shortly. “I- I remember things, Aang. I’ve seen things. The Fire Nation isn’t _good.”_

“I know.” Aang says, and when Zuko turns to look at him, his gray eyes are impossibly old for his face, weathered and beaten down. “I lost everything.” 

“Aang, shit, I’m-” 

“Everyone I loved. Everything I knew. My people are gone, Zuko. I’m the last airbender. It wasn’t until recently that I understood what that meant.” Aang looks at him steady, his jaw set. “So you need to believe me when I say that you weren’t _born_ bad, and that there is hope. To throw away anyone, to say you were born bad, or that the whole of Fire Nation is evil- that means we don’t have to do the work to make it better, be better. But it’s not true, and if there’s anything you need to listen to me about-” Aang takes a shaky breath. “-it’s this.” 

Zuko pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes. “What am I supposed to do?” He croaks out. “I- I- my uncle, and I have a little sister, and-” 

“One step at a time.” Aang says. “The spirits have plans. We just gotta figure them out.” 

Sometimes, Aang speaks, and the words that come out of his mouth seem to set the world back to rights on its axis. 

“You know, for a twelve-year-old, you’re pretty wise.” Zuko says. 

Aang gives him a half-smile and elbows him lightly. “You should listen to me more.” 

“I wouldn’t go _that_ far.” Zuko gets up and offers Aang a hand. “Come on. You should get back to bed.” 

* * *

The night before they’re supposed to leave, Zuko wakes and finds Sokka’s bed empty. 

Zuko sits up and does a quick headcount, finding both Aang and Katara fast asleep in their beds, before he throws off his covers and pads out to the living area. Sokka has ensconced himself into a corner of the couch, arms wrapped tight around his midsection. He’s staring out the window with dark, unreadable eyes. 

“Sokka,” Zuko says.

Sokka startles and looks up. “Oh, I’m fine, go back to sleep.” 

“Sokka.” Zuko repeats. 

Sokka looks down and digs his nails into his wrist. “I’m sorry.” He whispers. 

“You’re sorry?”

Sokka nods. “I- I haven’t really, I haven’t talked to you-” 

Zuko shakes his head and sits down next to his brother. “You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“I do.” Sokka takes a deep breath and lifts his head. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while.” 

Zuko stays silent. 

“I-I didn’t know what to do. How to react. When that guy said you were the prince. Did you really recognize him?” 

“Yes.” Zuko whispers. 

“So you really are…” 

“Yes.” 

Zuko closes his eyes, and waits for a blow that never lands. When he opens his eyes, Sokka is staring at him again, his lips quirked up. “Remember when you made fun of me for saying I was a prince?” Sokka says, and the surprised laugh that leaves Zuko’s mouth is almost foreign to him. 

Sokka pulls him into a tight hug, and Zuko doesn’t even care that his tears are definitely soaking the shoulder of Sokka’s tunic. 

* * *

They’re two days into their flight to the Earth Kingdom when Katara sits next to him as he’s repairing a pair of Aang’s pants at the very back of Appa’s saddle. 

“He should really learn how to sew for himself,” She says, and Zuko tries not to jump. She hasn’t said a word to him in almost two weeks. 

“I don’t mind it,” Zuko says. 

“I know,” Katara says. “You never have.” 

She’s silent for a moment, and then she drops her head onto his shoulder. “You’re my brother,” She says quietly.

Zuko freezes and puts down the needle and thread. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely. 

“You’re my _brother_ ,” Katara insists again. “That’s just it, Zuko. Whatever you were before- it doesn’t matter.” 

“It does.” Zuko says. “It does matter.” 

“Maybe it will later, but it doesn’t change things. For us. You’re my brother.” 

Zuko moves first, but Katara is faster, and she flings her arm around his neck and holds tight. 

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles to his shoulder, and Zuko tightens his hold. 

“Don’t ever apologize to me.” He says. “Don’t.” 

* * *

Appa flies low over a vast swamp, and Sokka hangs half-out of the saddle. 

“Question, Prince Zuko.” He yells, and Zuko resists the urge to throw the half-eaten apple core in his hands at his head. 

“I’m not a-” Zuko stops and groans. “ _What?”_

“Do you, like, remember living at a palace?” Sokka asks. “Did you have servants for everything? Oh my god, I bet your hairbrush was made out of solid gold or something-” 

“I don’t remember.” Zuko interrupts shortly. It’s not a lie, per se, just not the full truth. 

There aren’t full memories he can think back to- just... _feelings._ Red and gold and solid black, anticipation curdling sour in his stomach, someone yelling as fire burns hot onto his wrist, his shoulders. A little girl giggling, Iroh pouring him tea- 

“So you just recognized that guy?” Katara asks. “Without remembering him?” 

“I dunno.” Zuko says. “I just- I knew I knew him, and I knew I wasn’t _afraid_ of him.” 

“Hm.” Aang frowns. “Maybe since you’ve been remembering a lot, you’ll get more of your memories back soon?” 

Zuko shrugs and slides down the side of the saddle until all he can see is blue sky and clouds. “Yeah, maybe.” He mumbles. “I’m not too concerned.” 

Appa dips lower towards the swamp, and Sokka sits up. 

“Hey, what’s Appa doing? Why are we landing?”  
  


* * *

It’s almost laughably predictable how quickly they get separated in the stupid, spirits-forsaken swamp. Zuko’s come to realize that the only thing he can count on is that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. So as he stumbles alone through the thick vines and spongy ground of the swamp, he can’t even bring himself to feel surprised. 

  
“KATARA?” He yells. “SOKKA? AANG!” 

Nothing. Zuko heaves a great sigh and peers up at the sun, filtering dappled and warm through the thick canopy of the trees above. “Aren’t you supposed to help me?” He asks, scrunching up his nose. “What are we even _doing_ here?” 

The sun, predictably, doesn’t answer. 

“Not that you’ve been very helpful at all lately.” He mutters mutinously. Zuko groans and starts in the direction he last saw Katara. A streak of red peeks out from behind a tree. “Aang? That you?” He calls. No response. “Aang, now is _not_ the time to be messing with me-” The red flashes again, blurry in the corner of his left eye, and Zuko whirls around.

A woman is standing a few feet away from him, dressed head-to-toe in heavy black and red robes. Gold glints in her inky hair, and she smiles softly at him, reaching out one hand. Zuko stares at her, and remembers a gentle hand brushing out the knots in his phoenix tail, a cool hand soothing burns and cuts, a firm hand on his shoulder. 

“Mom.” He says. The hand settles soft around his cheek, one thumb swiping over the bumpy ridge of his scar, and Zuko squeezes his eyes shut and takes a shuddering breath. 

When he opens them, she’s gone. 

“Mom?” He calls, looking around frantically. “MOM!” 

The woman doesn’t reappear. Zuko falls onto his knees in the boggy marsh and stares at the spot where she stood, fingers ghosting over his cheek. 

* * *

  
  


When he reunites with everyone, sitting around a campfire with the waterbenders, everyone seems a little bit off. Aang tells them about seeing a small girl in fancy green robes with a flying pet boar who disappeared as he drew close.  
  
“That’s the symbol of the Beifong family,” Zuko says dully, and cuts off Sokka when he opens his mouth. “No, I don’t know how I know, don’t even ask.” 

‘Weirdo.” Sokka mutters, and Zuko elbows him in the ribs. 

“There’s something odd about this swamp, isn’t there?” Katara asks quietly. “I- I saw-” She cuts off and looks down. 

“It’s nothing, we were just hungry,” Sokka says dismissively. “Whoever we saw was just our imagination.”

“So you _did_ see someone,” Katara points her knife at him. 

“Well,” Sokka says, suddenly hesitant. “Yeah. I saw Yue.” 

“Oh. Sorry.” Katara says, looking down.

Sokka shrugs. “It is what it is. I didn’t know her all that long, you know?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” Aang cuts in, sharp. “You cared about her, Sokka. The monks taught me that love can’t disappear, and that the people we love don’t really ever leave us- they just take different forms.” 

Sokka glances up at the half moon in the sky above them, and his face softens. “Yeah, you’re right, Aang. Thanks.” 

“I usually am.” 

“I wouldn’t go _that_ far-” 

“Zuko,” Katara says as the boys start arguing. “You’ve been awfully quiet. You okay?” 

Zuko stares into the white flames at the base of the fire, its warmth dissipating before it can reach his skin. “I saw Mom.” he admits quietly.

Katara starts. “You saw my mom-?” 

“No,” he shakes his head. “my mom. I- I think I lost her when I was younger. Like you guys.” 

“Oh.” Katara crawls over to him and rests her head on his shoulder again. She’s been clingy these past few days since apologizing, and Zuko knows it's her way of trying to make it up to him. “What was she like?” She asks.

Zuko swallows the lump in his throat. “She was really pretty,” He says quietly, and the flames steadily rise with him, sedate and warm. “Long hair. Her eyes- her eyes kinda looked like mine. She liked poetry, I think? I can’t really remember, but I think she used to read it to me.” 

“She sounds like a great mom.” Katara says, and her tone is choked. Zuko pulls up and looks at her. Her eyes are red, and she’s clutching her pendant tight in her hands. 

“Hey-” He says. 

“I saw mine.” Katara says. “I tried to get to her, but she…”

“Disappeared.” Zuko finishes. 

Katara nods, and Zuko wraps a tight arm around her shoulders. 

“I miss Dad.” She says, and her voice sounds impossibly small.

“Me too,” Zuko says into her hair. “Me too.” 

* * *

They take off from the Swamp the next morning, and soon get pulled into yet another ridiculous scenario Zuko couldn’t have possibly imagined just three months ago. 

“Did you _have_ to put out the fire, Katara?” Sokka groans as they travel to Kyoshi Island to free Aang from a prison he could definitely get out of if he wasn’t so polite. 

“They lit Aang on fire!” Katara says defensively, flushing. 

“It was just a statue-” 

“It’s the principle of the thing. Besides,” Katara raises an eyebrow. “Are you gonna try and tell me you _didn’t_ do nice braids in your hair ‘cause we’re going to see Suki today?”

Sokka flushes and reaches up to his wolf’s tail with one self-conscious hand. “Did you and Aang _really_ have extra waterbending practice last week, or-”

“Leave her alone, Sokka. At least Aang doesn’t lead a cult of kid soldiers in the woods. She could be doing worse.” Zuko says lazily from the back of the saddle, and isn’t at all surprised when he gets soaked with dingy water. 

“I do NOT like Aang!” Katara yells. 

Zuko raises an eyebrow at her as he allows the water to sizzle off of him.

Katara steadfastly looks away, cheeks pink. “Besides, he’s, like, twelve.” She mutters.  
  
“You’re, like, twelve,” Sokka points out. 

“I’m _fourteen!_ ” 

“That’s practically the same age.” 

“Oh, big whoop, you guys are only fifteen,” She throws her hands in the air. 

“Uh, actually,” Zuko sits up. “I think I’m sixteen?” 

Sokka stills from his position on Appa’s head, then slowly turns around. “You’re _what_?” He asks, voice dangerously low. 

“Sixteen? I sort of...remember turning twelve in the palace?” Zuko says, half-apologetically. It’s not a _good_ memory, per se, but his siblings don’t need to know that. 

Sokka screeches, betrayed, collapses into Appa’s fur, and shakes a fist at the bright blue sky. “You guys really can’t let me have anything, can you?” He sighs. 

* * *

Gaoling is a run-of-the-mill Earth Kingdom town, but it’s as good as any to look for an earthbending instructor for Aang. It’s close enough to Fire Nation colonies that the townspeople are a diverse group, and no one gives them a second look, save to narrow their eyes at Zuko’s scar, or widen them in confusion at Aang’s tattoos. 

Sokka is still groaning about the bag he bought when Aang comes trudging out of his earthbending lessons with his nose wrinkled up. 

“I don’t think this is for me,” he says. “The Master is a total jerk.” 

“So was Pakku,” Katara points out. 

“Yeah, but like, he was _your_ master. _You’re_ my waterbending master.” Aang sighs. “I told you, Bumi told me my earthbending master stops and listens before they strike.” 

“Bumi was also crazy,” Sokka says. 

“True.” Zuko agrees. “Are you sure, Aang?” 

“Yeah. But!” He brightens up. “I heard some of the older boys talking about an Earthbending tournament! I bet we could find a master there! They were talking about some champion that’s been undefeated for, like, three months. I think she’s called the Blind Bandit?” 

“Sounds like a good idea to me!” Sokka says. “Where was it?” 

“They wouldn’t tell me.” Aang deflates, and points at two boys leaving the academy. “That’s them.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Katara pats his shoulder. “I’ll deal with it. Hey, strong guys, wait up!” She calls after them. 

Sokka glances at Zuko as Katara follows them into an alley. “Should we stop her?” He asks, as there’s a surprised yelp, and a quick rush of water. 

“Nah,” Zuko shrugs. Katara comes back around the corner, putting the cap back on her water skin and grinning. “She’s got it.” 

* * *

The Blind Bandit turns out, in fact, to be blind.

And that’s the least surprising fact about her. She’s also terrifyingly masterful at earthbending, twelve years old, the only daughter of the Gaoling Beifongs, and oddly agreeable to running away with a bunch of kids she met only a few days before. 

She also happens to be stupidly perceptive. They’re high in the sky, flying away from Gaoling when Toph fixes Zuko with a milky-blue stare, and says, 

“You’re a noble.” 

Zuko, who was in the middle of sharpening Sokka’s boomerang, startles violently, and cuts his finger on the edge. He hisses and sticks the bleeding finger in his mouth. “Uh,” he says, and Toph cackles disconcertingly.

“I _knew_ it!” She says. “I just had to confirm.” 

“How’d you know?” He asks, putting down the boomerang. Toph shrugs. 

“Your mannerisms. The way you walk and talk. You _definitely_ had etiquette lessons that Captain Boomerang over there-” she jerks a thumb in the direction of Sokka, who’s snoring loudly, his legs slung over the side of the saddle. “-never did.” 

“I, uh, was.” Zuko says quietly. It’s still weird to think about, let alone acknowledge. Zuko would prefer to let that fact sit in the back of his head, gathering dust, until he dies. 

Toph tilts her head to the side. “So why’d you say you were Sokka and Katara’s brother?” 

“I’m adopted?” Zuko says. “I was sort of...the Fire Prince?” 

Toph’s jaw drops open, and Zuko is deeply grateful they’re far too high in the sky for Toph to be able to earthbend. 

“No _shit_.” She says. “You’re _that_ Zuko? I thought you died? Everyone definitely thinks you’re dead.” 

Zuko winces. “I, uh, survived. I think? It’s sort of fuzzy.” 

“That’s _whack,_ dude.” Toph sighs, and she seems to sense Zuko’s intense discomfort, because she changes the subject. “So how’s it being royal and traveling with these yahoos? Are they too common for your refined palate?” 

“You’re a Beifong, Toph.” Zuko raises an eyebrow.

Toph waves a hand. “Semantics. Now, tell me-” She leans forward, and gives him a sharp grin that’s eerily familiar. “Which of these suckers is easiest to prank?” 

* * *

To no one’s surprise, Toph and Katara butt heads almost more than she and Sokka do. For every part of Katara that’s orderly, responsible, and sensible, Toph is loud, rash, and impulsive. 

Zuko finds it hilarious. They’re a little too similar to be able to _see_ that they’re similar. But, as their latest argument ends with Toph storming into the woods, Zuko thinks that, perhaps, he should have intervened earlier. 

“She’s just so- ugh!” Katara stomps her foot. Sokka covers the top of his water skin instinctively. 

“She’s twelve, Katara.” Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Aang’s twelve! He doesn’t act like that!” Katara throws a hand over at Aang, who’s weaving a necklace out of rope on Appa’s leg. 

“Technically, I’m one-hundred and twelve!” He pipes up cheerfully, and Katara groans. 

“Still!” She yells. “Why is she so-” 

“Again. Twelve.” Sokka adds. “You were like that when you were twelve.” 

“I was _not-_ ”

“You were.” Zuko says. “It’s a miracle we all survived that year. Not to mention, Toph sort of ran away from her parents without any warning? This is all new for her.” 

Katara flops down next to the fire. 

“Doesn’t mean she gets to be mean.” She mumbles.

“No, but it might help you understand her.” Aang says. 

“Whatever. Doesn’t matter to me if she comes back or not.” 

“Katara, you don’t mean that.” 

She flushes. “Fine. I don’t mean it.” 

“Good.” Zuko rises from the fire and gives his sister the rest of his soup. “I’m gonna go look for her. You guys stay here in case she comes back.”   
  


* * *

Zuko’s been trudging through the forest for several hours when he hears a stick snap and he whirls around, hand alight. “Who’s there?” He calls out.

“Sparky?” Toph steps out from behind a tree. “What are _you_ doing here?” 

“Looking for you.” He lets his flames go out. Toph seems unharmed, though her eyes are swollen. “Since you, you know, stormed out of camp, and we’re supposed to leave tomorrow morning.” 

“I was _fine.”_ She grumbles. 

“So you’re not hungry at all.” Zuko raises his eyebrow.

On cue, her stomach rumbles. “I would have found something to eat.” 

“I have no doubt. Come on, let’s get back. I bet there’s some dinner left.” 

Toph sighs but begins to follow him. She cracks her knuckles, one at a time. “I met some dude out here who said he knew you,” She says conversationally. 

Zuko stops dead in his tracks. “You _what?_ ” He demands. 

“An old dude?” Toph makes a face. “He was really nice. Gave me some tea.” 

“And you _drank_ it?” 

“Yeah? I’m not inhospitable, Zuko. Spirits, what do they teach in Fire Nation etiquette classes-” 

“What did he say?” He interrupts again, and Toph throws her hands up. 

“That he was looking for you- and that he had really messed up, but wanted to make it up to you.” 

“Sure.” Zuko mutters, and grabs Toph’s wrist to pull her forward, looking around them. 

“Zuko, Zuko-” Toph pulls his hand off. “I can tell when people are lying. He wasn’t.” 

“How could you possibly-”

“I’m the greatest earthbender on this planet. Don’t worry about how. I just- he wasn’t lying. He really seemed sincere.” 

Zuko takes a deep breath and tilts his head up at the dark sky, wondering if his life could possibly get any more complicated than it is now. “Please don’t make a habit of running away and having tea with men you don’t know in the middle of nowhere.” He mumbles, and Toph grins wickedly. 

“No promises.” 

* * *

Appa gets taken. 

Sokka figures out the date of the next solar eclipse, and they decide immediately that they need to tell the Earth King. 

They trudge out of the desert, beaten down and dejected, Aang barely talking, and Katara on the verge of tears. They make their way back to the small oasis town. Aang collapses outside the door to the inn, and Katara sits down next to him, handing Zuko what’s left of their money. 

“Stay here,” He tells them. “I’m going to get us a room.” 

Sokka, head still buried in his hands, groans. “Hurry.” he says. “I think my head is splitting in two.” 

“I _told_ you not to drink the cactus juice, dumbass.” Zuko says, and ducks through the doorway. 

It’s only a few degrees cooler inside, but anything’s a relief after almost two days of the sun beating down on them, and Zuko slumps against the stone wall for a second. He reluctantly pulls himself up and puts a few silver pieces down in front of the innkeep, who’s looking at him up and down as if he’s appraising a piece of meat at the market.

“One room, please.” He mumbles. “If you have any with more than one bed-“

“Already paid for.” The innkeep pushes the coins back to him, along with two keys. 

“Sorry?” Zuko blinks. “No, we were here a few days ago, but we didn’t pay for a room.”

“Two rooms have already been paid for you,” The innkeep shrugs. “Don’t take them if you don’t want ‘em. No skin off my back.”

“By who?” Zuko asks. 

The innkeep jerks his chin up towards the corner of the room, where two old men are playing Pai Sho.

Well. One old man and Iroh.

Zuko shoves the coins and the keys into his pocket and goes over. Iroh looks up from his game. He looks a little worse for the wear- his skin weathered and clothes dusty and plain, top-knot hidden under a wide kasa. If Zuko didn’t know better, he would think he was a simple, harmless old man.

But Zuko does know better. The Dragon of the West is anything but harmless.

“What’s your game?” He demands, slamming the keys down in the middle of the board, disrupting the elaborate pattern they’re building. 

Iroh raises his eyebrows. “Pai Sho, nephew. You used to be quite adept at it, when you were-“

“You _know_ what I mean.” Zuko interrupts. “How did you even find us?”

Iroh shrugs and turns to the other man. “If you’ll excuse us for a moment.” The man bows his head and leaves. “It wasn’t easy. But I have my sources.”

“I told you I don’t want _anything_ -“

“Zuko.” Iroh says sharply. “I understand your feelings. But you need to understand that I do not mean you any harm.”

“Why should I trust you?” Zuko says through gritted teeth. “You were part of the invasion force in the North. You tried to take Ba Sing Se. You- you- when he hurt me, you didn’t-” Zuko cuts off abruptly and shoves the heels of his hands into his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Iroh’s eyes widen. He gestures at the vacated seat in front of him.

Zuko reluctantly sits down, scowling at Iroh and crossing his arms. 

“Zuko,” Iroh says. “How much do you remember?”

Zuko shakes his head, hugs his arms tightly across his stomach to suppress the horribly anxious ball that’s erupted there. “I-I don’t know. I know- I know you. And mom. Azula?” Zuko shakes his head to rid himself of the brief, flitting vision of a younger girl with gold for eyes and steel for teeth.

“Your sister.” Iroh says. “She’s taken up your mantle.”

Zuko stares at him. “You said, back in the North. You said you were trying to prevent what happened to me from happening to her-“

“Yes.” Iroh confirms. “Your father. He’s not a kind man.”

Zuko wraps his hand around a faded scar on his wrist, where the bone is ridged and bumpy. “Is she.” He clears his throat. “Is she alright?”

“She’s-“ Iroh looks down. “Your sister is not you, Zuko. Your father expects impossible perfection from her. More often than not, she succeeds in meeting it.”

Zuko exhales. “So she’s safe.”

“No.” Iroh says, suddenly harsh. “She’s not safe. I left the palace six months ago. I desperately wanted to take her with me. Your father, of course, wouldn’t permit it. I’ve been unable to have my sources keep an eye on her.”

“You left her.”

Iroh’s expression is desperate. “I had to, Zuko, please understand- my loyalties do not lie-“

“Stop following us. _Leave me alone._ ” Zuko stands abruptly, and turns to go back outside, when there’s a hand on his shoulder, turning him around, and the keys are pressed back in his hands.

“You look tired, nephew,” Iroh says. “Please, take the rooms. I’ve already paid for dinner for everyone.”

Zuko stares at him. “I’m travelling with the Avatar. Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, trying to capture him?”

Iroh smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I told you. My loyalties lie elsewhere.”

Zuko breaks out of his grasp and heads back outside, determinedly not looking back. 

* * *

Sokka’s head is pounding when he wakes up. Bright sunlight streams through the curtains, slanting across the room. He rubs his eyes and sits up. He doesn’t remember much from yesterday- just being herded into a room, dunked into cold water, and deposited unceremoniously into a bed.

Wait.

A bed.

He looks up sharply and regrets it when it makes his head spin. Aang is curled up on a bed across from him, and Zuko is at a table in the corner, head resting on his arms. When he looks up, Sokka sees how bloodshot his eyes are.

“Where are the girls?” Sokka asks, and _spirits,_ his mouth is dry.

Zuko gets up and hands him a glass of water. “In the room next door.” 

“What? How’d you afford two rooms?” Sokka says. They’re not exactly flush with cash at the moment, despite Toph having swiped a good amount of her father’s spare coins on her way out of the house.

Zuko glances over at Aang, who hasn’t stirred throughout their whole exchange. “Iroh’s here.” He says dully.

Sokka spits out the water in his mouth. _“What?”_

“Iroh. He followed us.” Zuko slumps down in his chair. “Paid for this. And food.”

“But- why- why would he do that?” Sokka splutters. “He’s evil- He’s Fire Nation!”

Zuko slumps down further in his chair, and Sokka groans. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Zuko says, raspy. “You’re right.”

“Then why would he pay for all of this? Why isn’t he trying to capture Aang?”

Zuko lifts one shoulder. “Dunno. Maybe he’s trying to lure us into a false sense of security so he can ship Aang and I both back to the Fire Nation and Ozai can kill us himself.” Zuko’s voice is toneless, his expression blank.

“Maybe.” Sokka agrees. His vision has almost cleared completely, and he can see just how terrible his brother looks. There’s a deep bag under his eye, and his hair is tangled and knotted in a way Katara would never let it get, braids falling out. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

Zuko shrugs again. “Was worried. Aang didn’t sleep well.”

“Dude, take the bed. I have to wash up, anyway.” Sokka says, and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Oh spirits, he might throw up again.

“The sun’s up.” Zuko says. “I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Try.” Sokka says and hides how dizzy as he pushes Zuko towards the bed.

Zuko doesn’t even fight him as he climbs into the bed and pulls the covers over his face, like he used to when he was younger and the cold was hurting his scar, and that concerns Sokka almost more than anything.

When he returns back to the room after washing up, Zuko is still under the blankets, and Katara is sitting at the foot of his bed, running her comb through Toph’s hair, who’s resisting valiantly, as Aang looks on quietly.

“He asleep?” He asks.

Katara glances over at Zuko and nods. “Yeah.” She says, hushed. “What’s wrong with him?”

“His uncle’s here.” Sokka says, and nudges Aang until he moves and lets Sokka sit next to him.

“Iroh?” Toph says, face brightening.

“How do you know him?” Aang asks. It’s the first thing he’s said in almost a day, and his voice is hoarse.

Toph shrugs. “Remember when we had that fight a few weeks ago? I sort of found him in the woods. He said he was looking for his nephew, and he kind of described Zuko to a T.”

“Toph, why wouldn’t you tell us?” Katara says crossly, and drags the comb through a tangle in Toph’s hair so viciously that Toph screeches and pulls away from Katara.

“I did! I _told_ Sparky!”

“Why wouldn’t he have told us that?” Katara asks. “If Iroh is trying to hurt us-“

“I don’t think he is.” Toph frowns. “He seemed really sincere, like he just wanted to talk to Zuko”

“He could have been lying.” Aang says dully.

“I would be able to tell.” Toph says. “Do none of you people remember that I am, in fact, the greatest earthbender that has ever walked this-“

“He also paid for this room.” Sokka interrupts what is sure to be a long and very self-congratulatory monologue.

“He did _what?”_ Katara says loudly, and then claps a hand over her mouth as Zuko stirs.

Sokka nods. “He paid for it. And for our food. I don’t really know what the guy’s endgame is, but it doesn’t seem like he has it out for Zuko or Aang.”

“Yet.” Aang says.

Sokka frowns and shoves a roll in Aang’s hands. “You need to eat. You’re getting pessimistic. Besides,” He turns back to Katara. “I’m not saying we should trust him. I mean, we all know Zuko’s…heritage, but that doesn’t mean we can automatically trust anyone Fire Nation. I’m just saying, maybe we don’t need to be super worried? Like we were with Zhao?”

“Yeah!” Toph cheers. “Besides, if he tries anything shady, we can just take him, four-on-one!”

“Five-on-one.” Sokka corrects.

“Oh. Well, you’re not a bender, so I just kind of-“ Toph reddens. “Five-on-one.”

“Much better. “Sokka says haughtily. “So that’s settled. We’ll start on our way to Ba Sing Se when Zuko wakes up.”

* * *

The trudge to the ferry is almost as long and nerve-grating as their journey out of the desert, and Zuko is so busy separating Toph and Katara, and keeping Aang from falling behind, he barely has time to think about what Iroh told him. 

That is, until they get up to the terminal. 

“Five tickets to Ba Sing Se, please.” Aang says.

The woman behind the booth raises her eyebrow. “Passports?” 

“Passports?” Aang repeats. “Uh, no one told us we needed passports-“ 

“No passports, no tickets.” The woman says imperiously. “NEXT!” 

“Wait!” Aang interjects. “I didn’t want to have to play this card, but I’m the Avatar.” 

“Uh-huh.” The woman says. “And I’m the Earth Queen. Back of the line, or I’ll have security kick you out.” 

Aang’s eyes narrow, but Sokka tugs him away before he can open his mouth. “We’ll figure something out.” He says. 

“I have my family crest?” Toph offers. 

“That could definitely work.” Zuko agrees. Toph’s about to walk up and pull her greatest scam yet when someone behind them says, in a firm but familiar voice, 

“Excuse me.” 

Zuko whirls around.

A girl in a security uniform with short, auburn hair and bright eyes is holding Sokka up by his tunic. “I know your type. Think you’re so funny, probably told the lady you’re traveling with the Avatar,” The girl is saying.

Zuko looks over at Katara to figure out if they need to make a quick escape, but Katara seems to be trying to hold back a laugh. 

“I- what?” Sokka cocks his head. “Do I-do I know you?” 

“What, you don’t remember me?” The girl says. She grins sharply, and Zuko remembers blood-red eyeliner, someone hauling a body off him. “Maybe you’ll remember _this_.” The girl kisses Sokka, and Aang groans and turns away while Toph whistles. 

Sokka’s eyes widen. “SUKI!” He throws his arms around her and pulls her into a tight embrace. 

“Sokka!” Suki pulls away and looks at all of them, grinning at Zuko. “It’s so good to see all of you!” 

“You too!” Katara says, returning her quick hug. “Oyaji told us you and the Warriors had left- we didn’t think we’d see you again!” 

Suki flushes slightly, keeping her hand in Sokka’s. “You guys were right- we all have to do our part in ending this war. The girls and I have been doing security work at the port for about a month now. Are you guys going to Ba Sing Se?” 

“Yeah,” Aang confirms. “Appa got taken. We think he might be in Ba Sing Se.” 

“Also, we have to tell the Earth King about a solar eclipse coming up,” Zuko interjects, and Aang waves him off. 

“Yeah, yeah, that too.” 

“That’s good timing.” Suki says. “Come with me- I have something for you.”

* * *

She leads them to a small building at the far edge of the port, where the warriors sleep when not on duty.

Suki nudges a younger girl who’s snoring by the door. “Suyin, get up- I gotta take a break.”

Suyin opens one blue eye and makes a face. “Make Hou-Ting take your spot, I’m tired.” 

“Suyin.” Suki says in a clipped tone, and the girl jumps up, groaning, and begins putting on her uniform. 

“You run a tight ship,” Zuko says, as Suki leads them into a small kitchen and gestures at the food on the table. Sokka immediately sits down and pulls a roll towards him. 

“I have to.” Suki says, rummaging through a box in a cabinet. “The girls haven’t been away from home before. Gotta make sure everyone stays safe and on top of everything. Ah! Here it is.” 

She pulls out five passports and hands them to Zuko. They certainly look authentic. 

“Where- where did you get these?” He asks. 

“This guy came through a few days ago and asked me to give them to you.” Suki says. “I thought it was weird, but my supervisor seemed to know him and made me do it.” 

“Let me guess.” Toph says. “Older dude, really loves tea, wouldn’t stop talking about Zuko?” 

“That’s the one.” Suki frowns. “Is he, like, after you guys or something?” 

Zuko says “Yes!” at the same time Toph rolls her eyes and groans. “No.” 

Katara pulls the passports out of his hands and frowns. “These look super real. Where would Iroh have gotten them?” 

“Don’t know. Didn’t ask.” Suki says, holding a folded sheet of paper out to Zuko. “He also gave me a letter for you.” 

Zuko scowls, but Katara glares at him, so he reaches out and takes it. 

_Zuko,_

It says in fussy, stylized characters,

_May your journey into Ba Sing Se be far easier than my previous attempts were. I know you don’t trust me, nephew, and you have good reasons not to. I would be forever in your debt if you would give me one more chance to explain myself to you once you arrive in the city._

There’s an address written underneath, and it isn’t signed. 

“What’s it say?” Sokka asks.

Zuko shoves the letter into his pocket. “He wants to meet with me. Again.” 

“I think you should.” Aang says, quiet. Zuko turns to him, surprised, and Aang shrugs. “I know you’re probably super wary of him, but Zuko, if he really does want to help us- help you- then having a Fire Nation Royal on our side could be insanely useful when we invade.” 

“Well, two Fire Nation royals.” Sokka reasons, and Zuko’s scowl deepens. 

“Two?” Suki says blankly, and then turns to Zuko, her eyes widening. “Spirits. You’re Prince Zuko?” 

“Supposedly.” Zuko says shortly. 

“You’re supposed to be dead-“ 

“Yeah, yeah, there’s some spirit-y nonsense going on, let’s move past that.” Toph says impatiently. “Can we go get our tickets now? The sooner we’re in Ba Sing Se, the sooner we can leave.” 

* * *

The ferry doesn’t leave until the next morning, and Suki graciously lets them stay with the Kyoshi Warriors for the night. The next morning, as they’re preparing to pack up, she waylays Zuko in the kitchen. Her arms are crossed, her expression narrowed, and Zuko prepares himself for the threats that are sure to come.

“Is something going on with Sokka?” She asks instead, and Zuko blinks. 

“What?” He says. 

“Sokka.” Suki says. “He seems…sad? I don’t know.” 

“Oh.” Zuko shakes himself. “I- I don’t know if I should tell you. Did he…tell you about Yue?” 

“Who?” Suki asks, and Zuko sighs. His brother’s preferred method of dealing with his feelings is to pretend they don’t exist. 

“Yue.” Zuko says. “She was the Northern Water Tribe Princess. She and Sokka were together when we were up North before the invasion.” 

“She _was_ the Princess?” 

Zuko nods heavily. “She sacrificed herself for her people.” He says softly. “Sokka really misses her, I think. I don’t know. He won’t talk about it.” 

“Oh.” Suki takes a step back. “Oh. That, uh, really sucks.” 

“It does.” Zuko says. “Are you- are you okay?” 

Suki shrugs. “Yeah, of course. I just wasn’t expecting to hear that. Thanks for telling me, Zuko.” 

“Sure. I thought you were gonna beat me up, so this was a welcome surprise.” He says, and then widens his eyes. Damn, he hadn’t meant to say that. Maybe he does need to sleep more. 

“Why would I have beat you up?” Suki crosses her arms over her chest, and then tilts her head to the side. “Oh, right. The whole prince thing.” 

“Yeah, that trivial detail.” 

“Zuko, honestly, it does totally suck, but like- maybe it’s a good thing?” Suki says. 

“How could it possibly be a good thing that I’m descended from the people who murdered Aang’s entire people-” 

“No, that’s not so good.” Suki interrupts thoughtfully. “But Aang has to take down the Fire Lord, right?” 

“Yeah.” Zuko says shortly. 

“So, maybe you could take the throne and actually end the war.” Suki says. 

Zuko stares at her. Not that he allows himself to think past the next twenty-four hours, if that, but in the back of his mind, he still maintained the distant, dusty hope, that he’d just be able to go home when all of this was over. 

“I-“ He starts. 

“Hey, Zuko, we gotta go! They’re starting to load the ferry!” Aang calls from the front room.

Suki gives him a small smile and squeezes his shoulder as they leave the kitchen. “Have a safe journey, you guys.” She tells them.

Sokka throws his arms around her shoulders, and says, into her hair, “Are you sure you can’t come with?” 

“I’m sure.” She says and presses a kiss to Sokka’s forehead. “I think the girls and I are going to be moving on from here soon.” 

“Okay.” Sokka says, and pulls away, straightening up. “Okay. I’ll see you soon. Stay safe. Please.” 

“You too. All of you.” She looks at Zuko and raises her eyebrows, and Zuko gives her crooked half-grin. 

“No promises.” Toph declares, and grabs Zuko’s hand to pull him out the door. 

* * *

“Well.” Aang declares, dropping his bag on the floor. “This is not what I expected.” 

The house they’ve been given in Ba Sing Se’s upper ring is ornate and almost surpasses the North in sheer ostentatiousness and excess.

“Do we really all need our own rooms?” Katara says dubiously, appearing in a doorway. Zuko has to agree- he really doesn’t like being more than a few feet away from his siblings, if that. 

“I do.” Toph says. “Sokka snores.” 

“I do _not-“_

“So what’s the plan?” Zuko interrupts. “We’re not actually waiting for Joo Dee or whatever her name was to get a message to the Earth King in a month?” 

“Absolutely not. I’m going to get some fliers to hang up for Appa.” Aang says determinedly. He turns to Zuko. “Maybe- maybe you should go see Iroh?”

Zuko tightens his jaw and turns away. The address Iroh had given him was only a few blocks away. 

“Later.” He says shortly, and Aang shrugs and grabs his glider. 

“Who’s coming with me?” 

“Me!” Katara says, hopping up. “We’ll swing by the market on the way back home, yeah?” 

“Whatever.” Sokka grumbles. “I’m gonna take a nap. You people are exhausting.” 

“Can you go take it somewhere else?” Toph demands. “No snoring.” 

“Toph, I swear to Tui, one of these days, I’m gonna-“ 

“Gonna what?” Toph pulls up a random piece of rock and floats it threateningly above her hand. 

Sokka’s scowl deepens, and he retreats down the hallway, muttering about overpowered babies under his breath. 

* * *

Zuko waits until after dark, when everyone is safe in their beds, to creep out of the house in the darkest clothes he can find. He moves over roofs and across alleys, feet light in a way that feels natural, if not practiced. 

It only takes a few minutes to reach the address written on the letter, and Zuko stays on the roof of the apartment building across the street from it. It’s… a teashop? A small, hand-painted sign denotes it as The Jasmine Dragon, and soft light spills out onto the street from the large windows in the front. 

It’s late, many hours past sunset, but it seems as though it’s just closing. Someone is sweeping the front of the empty shop, and when they open the door to dump the dirt out onto the street, Zuko sees that it’s Iroh, dressed in unassuming greens and browns. He greets a young man passing on the street cheerfully, then turns back into the shop and wipes down all the tables. 

Once it seems as though he’s finished cleaning the shop, he sits down heavily at a table by the counter, head in his hands.  
  
After several minutes, a dark figure steals up to the shop, and knocks a complicated pattern on the door. Zuko reaches for his boomerang strapped to his back, but Iroh doesn’t seem concerned. He straightens up and hurries to the door. The man doesn’t attack him- simply flips a small coin between his fingers and hands Iroh a scroll. Iroh says something quietly to the man and looks out onto the street before he bows his head, and the man disappears into the alley across from the shop. 

Iroh pauses and looks up at the roof where Zuko is laying, flat on his stomach. Zuko holds his breath, but Iroh simply shuts the door to the shop, and within a minute, the room darkens, and Iroh disappears from view. 

Zuko sinks down in relief and rests his cheek against the roof. Is Iroh truly just running a tea shop in the middle of Ba Sing Se? 

* * *

Yes. 

Apparently, the Dragon of the West, Prince of the Fire Nation, is a tea proprietor. Zuko spends several days and nights watching him, as everyone puts up posters for Appa and Aang scours the city from above. The old man seems, for all intents and purposes, harmless. He serves tea during the day, meets strange people at night, and rarely leaves his establishment, unless he’s going to the market. 

He must know Zuko’s in the city, since Aang has practically showered the upper and middle ring with fliers at this point, and yet, he doesn’t seek him out. 

That, as much as anything, convinces Zuko to talk to him. He waits until right after the shop closes one night, about a week after they’ve arrived in the city, and steals quietly through the unlocked door. Iroh is behind the counter. He doesn’t even turn around as he says,

“Hello, nephew.” 

“How did you-“ 

Iroh turns around and gives him a small smile. “I know many things, Zuko, not the least of which is that you’ve been watching me for a while now.” He continues cleaning out the teacup in his hands with a rag as if they’re simply having a conversation about the weather.

“Well?” Iroh says, after Zuko fails to make his mouth work for a minute or so. “How do I measure up?”

“I-“ Zuko shakes his head. “Are you really a tea shop owner?” 

Iroh laughs. “I am. Though here, I am known as Mushi.” 

Zuko blinks. “What- What are you even doing here?” 

“Following you.” Iroh says simply. “I made many mistakes, several years ago, and they resulted in dire consequences for you. For the world. I am done allowing your father to use whatever he sees fit as kindling for his ambition.” 

Zuko stares at him. He doesn’t remember much from his childhood still- just flashes of disjointed memory, feelings, sounds- but something in the carefully-chosen words Iroh uses- almost innocuous if he doesn’t think about them too hard, but chiming discordant on his skull- strike him. 

“You’re a traitor.” He says finally, and Iroh’s smile widens. 

“Ah, nephew.” He says. “Aren’t we all?” 

* * *

  
  


Zuko stares into the steaming cup of tea Iroh places before him. 

“Go on,” Iroh says, and pours himself a cup from the same pot. He takes a sip, and Zuko finally picks his cup up. It’s sweet-smelling, and a subtle floral taste explodes familiar over his tongue. 

“Jasmine.” Zuko says. “I- I used to-“ 

“Yes, it was your favorite.” Iroh says. “We used to make it together.” 

“And play- did we play Pai Sho?” Zuko asks, tilting his head. 

“We did.” Iroh confirms. “I’m glad you remember some, if not all, my nephew.” 

“It’s starting to come back. I just wish I knew why.” Zuko curls his hands around the warm cup. 

Iroh’s eyes flicker up at this hair before he looks back down. “Nothing blooms before its time.” 

“What?” Zuko screws up his face, and Iroh laughs softly. 

“You never did like my proverbs very much when you were younger.”

“How did you- I thought you were a General?”

“I was.” Iroh says. “I am very sorry to say that it took a personal loss for me to understand the pointlessness of the war we were waging on the rest of the world. I, ah, took steps to begin working against your father, while still protecting your sister as best I could.”

“The world has been fractured, the South decimated.” Zuko says coolly. “My sister is the last waterbender. Your nation kidnapped and killed the rest.”

“Your sister?” Iroh furrows his brows. “Ah, the younger Water Tribe girl.”

“Katara.” Zuko says. “She’s as much my sister as Azula is.”

“Of course.” Iroh concedes. “And you’re right. We have nearly broken the world in our quest for power, and so we have a responsibility to put it back together.”

Zuko thinks of the destruction in the North. The countless Earth Kingdom villages they’d passed through, picked clean to the bone for men and supplies in this war. Katara, red-eyed and silent on her mother’s birthday, Sokka with hunched-over shoulders, staring up at the moon. Of spending his winters with a scarf wrapped around half of his face, because the scarred side prickled like someone was perpetually needling him when the temperature dropped.

“We?” He asks coldly. Iroh looks at him steadily.

“Zuko,” he says, soft. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now. You were dead, my nephew. I sat beside you and watched you leave this earth.”

Zuko shakes his head. “I-I don’t-“

“This must be immeasurably hard for you. But the spirits brought you back for a reason, and I think you may know what it is.”

Zuko stares down into his tea, curls his hands around the porcelain, allows the warmth to seep into his shaking hands. “Can we talk about something else?” He asks. He means to stay calm, steady, confident- he wants to trust Iroh, isn’t sure he can- but it comes out hoarse and desperate.

“Yes.” Iroh’s expression softens. “Yes, of course, Zuko. I am still so overjoyed to see you, we can talk about anything. Tell me- you spent time in the South?”

Talking about home is infinitely easier than stepping through the minefield that is his fragmented memories of the Fire Nation or his supposed destiny. and Zuko finds himself telling Iroh almost everything- waking up in Hakoda’s hut, his first winter in the tribe, learning to sail with Bato, cooking with Kanna, growing up with Katara and Sokka, finding Aang-

When Zuko goes quiet finally and looks up from his cold tea, he finds that Iroh’s eyes are shiny.

“You must have thousands of questions for me.” Iroh says. His voice is rough. “But what I did- or didn’t do- for you and your sister as children will always be my greatest regret, and one of the many reasons I am working against our family. But Zuko-“ Iroh breaks off and rubs at his eyes. “I am so very glad you ended up in a place where you had people who loved and cared for you. I only hope that with time, you can see that I, too, want to do the same.” 

* * *

Zuko leaves the shop not long after, and when he gets home, he finds everyone still up, sitting in the living room.

Sokka’s arms are crossed. “Where have you been, young man?” He demands as Zuko shuts the front door and locks it. “Do you even know how late it is? Your sister and I have been worried _sick_ -” 

“Why aren’t you all asleep?” Zuko asks. 

_“Don’t ignore the question!”_

“He went to see Iroh.” Toph announces. 

“What? How did you know-“ Zuko turns.

Toph has a shit-eating grin on her face, and she cackles. “Ha! Got you!” 

“Did you really?” Katara asks.

Zuko sighs and sits down next to Aang, who is the only one not launching a full-frontal assault on him, and is, thus, the safest option. “Yes.” He admits. 

“And?” Aang asks.

“I think.” Zuko looks up. Aang is looking a little less tired these days. A little more like the twelve-year-old he really is. “I think we can trust him.” 

Toph cheers. “Finally! I’ve been dying for some of his tea for weeks!” 

* * *

It’s alarmingly easy to fall into a routine, after that. They continue to search for Appa during the day while they wait for their audience with the Earth King, and in the evenings, Zuko makes the short walk to Iroh’s shop, usually accompanied by at least Toph and Sokka, if not everyone.

“So, Azula’s a prodigy?” Zuko asks, moving his Pai Sho piece.

Iroh nods. “Your sister had a spark at birth, while your father was convinced you were a nonbender until you were eight.”

“So now you have two prodigy-bending baby sisters.” Sokka snorts from the other table, where he’s attempting to teach Toph how to write her name.

“Master Katara is very skilled.” Iroh agrees.

“She’s Aang’s master, too!” Toph chimes in. She has ink smeared over her cheek. Zuko passes Sokka a napkin, and Sokka rubs at her cheek until she shrieks and wriggles away from him.

“Do you teach the young Avatar firebending, nephew?” Iroh asks.

Zuko flushes. “I- uh, I don’t think I’m really good enough for that.” 

“Hm.” Iroh looks thoughtful. “You were twelve when I last saw you- most firebenders don’t reach master until they’re sixteen or so. Did you retain much of your training?”

Zuko shrugs and places a wheel piece next to Iroh’s knotweed. “Some. It’s, uh, almost instinctive, I guess? I’m definitely not as good as Katara or Toph.”

“ _No one’s_ as good as me.” Toph interjects.

“True.” Zuko agrees. Toph had destroyed half their house with only one stomp last week when Joo Dee told them to stop putting posters up. It was hard to argue with that.

“Are you meditating, at least?”

“Am I what?” Zuko asks blankly. Aang meditated every once in a while, and it seemed like the most boring activity in the world.

“Meditation.” Iroh frowns. “It’s imperative for firebenders, as our bending is fueled so directly by our spiritual energy. If you’re not meditating, you’ll find that fires around you will react with your emotions.”

Sokka snorts. “One time, when we were fourteen, he got into an argument with Katara and made the bonfire leap, like, five feet higher. It almost singed his eyebrow off.”

“Shut up.” Zuko hits blindly behind him and is satisfied when he hits flesh and Sokka yelps.

“That settles it.” Iroh announces. “You will join me for morning meditation and firebending practice.”

“Isn’t that dangerous around here? What with the Dai Li and everything?” Toph asks.

“Yes, we will have to be very careful.” Iroh agrees. “But there is a small courtyard behind my apartment that’s protected on all four sides. And really, Zuko, I’m not sure you should go much longer without mastering your element- that can be very dangerous.”

“Fine.” Zuko relents. Iroh’s probably right, as loathe as he is to admit it. “What time?”

“Sunrise?” Iroh says in a bemused tone. “Firebenders usually rise with the sun.”

“ _Sunrise-“_ Sokka spits out his tea. “Is that why Zuko is always up so early and making so much noise? There’s a _reason_ I haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep in four years?” 

* * *

“Again.” Iroh says, crossing his arms. “Your kick was sloppy.”

Zuko huffs and gets back to his feet, returning to his starting position. Iroh is a meticulous teacher, making Zuko run through katas over and over until he can find no discernable flaws. It’s frustrating, but also immensely satisfying, as his form grows masterful, to watch his flames grow hotter and precise.

Zuko kicks out again, flexing his foot straight up, and Iroh smiles.

“Much better!” He praises. He glances up; the sun has risen entirely, half-hidden behind dark clouds. “There’s only one more thing I want to teach you today before we finish.”

Iroh beckons for him to sit on the stone next to him, and Zuko collapses down, pulling the edge of his tunic to his forehead to wipe off the sheen of sweat dripping down into his eyes.

“Traveling with the Avatar, it’s most likely only a matter of time before you see your father.” Iroh says.

“I’m not scared of him.” Zuko says, tilting his chin up, and does it count as a lie if he simply refuses to think about it? You can’t be afraid of something you don’t acknowledge as a threat.

Iroh smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Your courage is admirable, nephew, but Ozai is a formidable bender. I doubt very much he will take well to seeing you again. And when you do meet him, I want you to be prepared.”

“I’m training as hard as I can-“

“And you’re doing very well.” Iroh says firmly. “You’ll be ready soon enough to take over Aang’s instruction. But your father- well not only him, Azula and I have both mastered this form as well- has the ability to create lightning.”

“Lightning.” Zuko repeats. “You can shoot lightning?”

Iroh nods. “Yes. I’ve only ever used it in the most dire of circumstances, but Ozai does not have my compunction. I’ve created a method to redirect it by studying waterbenders.”

Iroh gestures for him to stand, and demonstrates, tracing two fingers along his arm, into his stomach, and back out his hand.

“It’s most important that the lightning gets redirected into your stomach- the source of your chi- and not pass through your vital organs. If that happens-“ Iroh shakes his head. “You may survive the initial encounter, but not for much longer.”

“Why don’t I just learn to bend lightning?” Zuko says impatiently. “It can’t be that hard-“

“Yes, it can. It requires separation of your energies, and is very dangerous if not done correctly.“ Iroh says. “I have no doubt that with time, you will be able to, but at this moment, you need to focus on being able to survive if you’re shot. Now, come, practice.”

* * *

Zuko slumps into the house an hour later, sweat dried to his skin, and drops onto the pillows in the main room.

“You smell gross.” Toph notes.

“So do you.” Zuko says into the pillows.

“And I’m proud of it.”

“What’d you learn in jerkbending class today?” Sokka asks, coming from the kitchen with two apples in his hands. He tosses one to Zuko.

“Lightning.” Zuko says and takes a bite of the apple.

“Lightning?” Toph says. “Wait, firebenders can bend lightning? _Wicked._ ”

Katara and Aang come in the front door, laden down with bags from the market. Aang yawns and rubs his eyes, flopping down onto the cushions next to Zuko.

“No, he wouldn’t even let me try. It was just how to redirect it.” Zuko says around the apple in his mouth. “Apparently, Ozai can bend lightning, so I need to be prepared.”

Katara frowns. “If the Fire Lord can shoot lightning, it sounds like it’s something Aang needs to know, too. Do you think you’ll be ready to start teaching him soon?”

“No rush.” Aang says hastily. “Seriously. Do I even really need to learn firebending? I can always just put it out with water-“

“Yes.” Zuko interrupts firmly. “I know it’s scary, but you definitely need to learn. As soon as Iroh thinks I’m ready, you’re starting again.”

Aang falls silent, his face stony, and Katara gives him a look before she pulls a poster out of her pocket.

“And in the meantime- Aang and I found this at the market. The Earth King is having a party! I don’t think we should wait any longer to talk to him. It’s been almost a month!”

“Cool.” Sokka agrees. “What’s the party for?”

Katara peers at the paper. “He wants to introduce his…bear? To the court.”

“Bear?” Toph asks. “Don’t you mean platypus-bear?”

“Nope.”

“Moose-bear.”

“No. It really just says bear.” Katara says.

“Huh.” Aang says. “Weird. Anyways, what’s the plan to infiltrate the party?”

* * *

“Well.” Toph says, as they trudge back home, the sun lightening behind them. “That was- ah- something.”

“It makes sense.” Katara adds miserably. Zuko feels eyes on them and turns to glance down an alleyway. There’s a swift movement, but no figure. “How else could Ba Sing Se stay so completely isolated from the war? Kuei doesn’t even _know_ about it.”

“At least we have a lead on Appa.” Aang says darkly. “If anyone in this city would have him, it would be the-“ Sokka claps a hand over Aang’s mouth before Zuko can get to him.

“Let’s talk about this at the house.” Sokka says. Aang’s eyes widen and he nods.

* * *

A great deal happens in a short amount of time. Getting Appa out from under the lake- finding Jet- losing Jet- confronting the Earth King- getting Long Feng imprisoned- Aang taking off to see Guru Pathik, Sokka to see Hakoda, Toph her mother-

By the time Zuko finishes telling Iroh everything that’s happened, Katara at his side, their tea has gone cold. Iroh’s face is stony and set.

“You need to be careful, Zuko.” Iroh says.

“Why? Kuei knows about the war now, and Long Feng is in prison. I checked myself.” Katara says. “We’re safe.”

Iroh shakes his head. “I just received word that Ozai has put a bounty on my head. Odds are that if he’s learned of my treason at the North Pole, he’s aware of you, as well.”

“Doesn’t he think I’m dead?” Zuko says dismissively.

“Perhaps.” Iroh shrugs. “But you need to keep your head down, especially now that Long Feng has been ousted. Maybe this is just an old man’s paranoia, but I don’t trust this situation. Watch each other’s backs, especially as it is just you and Katara right now.”

“We’ll be fine, Iroh.” Zuko says and stands up. “We should go. Katara and I have an early meeting tomorrow morning.”

“Be-“

“-Safe, got it. Thank you for the tea.” Katara says, as they pick up for the short walk home.

* * *

Iroh watches them go, a niggling suspicion growing in the back of his mind, then sighs and begins to push in the chairs and wipe down the tables.

“Quaint place, Uncle. “ A voice says from the entrance. Iroh straightens up. “A little beneath a prince, if you ask me.”

“Azula.” Iroh says, turning around.

His niece is dressed in Earth greens and golds, standing a little taller than when he left her. Her hair is longer, eyes colder. Iroh takes a deep breath as Azula taps her sharpened nails on the table closest to her.

“I know you haven’t finished your studies, my niece.” Iroh feigns calm, picks up the used pot to wash. “Why are you in Ba Sing Se?”

“Uncle, don’t pretend not to know.” Azula laughs, sharp and cold. “You committed treason. You’re a traitor to the Dragon Throne.”

“Do you really believe that, Azula?” Iroh asks softly. “Your father-“

“The _Fire Lord_ has given me direct orders.” Azula cuts him off, jaw tightening. “Most would do well not to disobey him.”

Iroh stills. A hint of reddened, discolored skin peeks out from under Azula’s long sleeves.

“I did what I had to.” He says, desperate, quiet.

“You did what you wanted to.” She shoots back. “I should just take you now. Put you in chains and on the first balloon back to the Caldera.”

“Azula-“

“But it’s no matter. I have more important issues to attend to. I’m sure the Fire Lord will overlook my small indiscretion in sending you back later, rather than now.”

“More important issues, my niece?”

“Ba Sing Se will fall.” Azula says carelessly, lighting one finger and holding it up to her face, eyes focused on the bright blue of her flames. Iroh tightens his hands around the pot.

“You don’t have to.”

“You didn’t have to leave.” Azula says. She turns to leave. “Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, Uncle.”

She pauses at the door.

“Oh- and if you know where that nasty little fraud pretending to be my brother is hiding since the Avatar left the city, it’s in your best interest to tell me. Who knows-“ she shrugs, chuckles. “Perhaps I can get you a cell with a view.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we are officially halfway done with this monster of a fic, and this is officially the longest story I have ever written.
> 
> So cool!! you guys have been insanely receptive to this and it's giving me life. I'm crazy excited for the next ch, but fair warning: i started my classes and I'm taking 21 credits (ew) on top of starting my lab work again (double ew), so it's unlikely i'll be able to keep up with 10k/week. I'm definitely going to try and stick to a regular posting schedule tho!


	8. Axis Mundi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only have two things to say:  
> \- my beta @agentcalliope (tumblr and ao3) is at least partially responsible for this  
> \- I made you guys a playlist for this chapter!! it's what I listened to on repeat as I wrote it and may i just say i think it heightens the reading experience (esp the song Fourth of July by Sufjan Stevens- it directly inspired a whole segment)  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1SqEH5bDz7qqefLKlaa45I?si=MjUhPc9JQeK1hU69gH7WKQ
> 
> have fun!!!

* * *

The short walk to the palace is mostly silent in the early morning fog. Katara glances over at Zuko. 

“You okay? You wanna stop and get a cup of tea with Iroh before we go?” She asks. Zuko shakes his head.

“Nah.” He says, and then looks down at his feet. “How do you think Sokka’s doing?” 

“He’s with Dad, _and_ he gets to see Bato and Tulok. I think he’s okay.” Katara says, rolling her eyes. 

“You don’t-” Zuko curls his fingers in, digs his nails into his palm. “You don’t think I should have gone with him?” 

“What, and leave little old me defenseless in Ba Sing Se?” Katara bats her eyelashes and juts her lip out, and Zuko, against his will, has to laugh. Katara bumps her shoulder against his.

“Seriously, Zuko, it’s fine. Dad will get why we couldn’t come. We’ll see him soon enough.” 

“But-” Zuko stops suddenly, just short of the steps to the palace. “What if he- what if he doesn’t want-” 

He can’t finish. Katara seems to understand him anyways. She pulls him into a quick, tight hug. 

“Zuko. I don’t really know how to get it through your stupidly-thick skull that you’re part of our family. You don’t need to worry about Dad.” 

“But-” 

“You don’t.” Katara says firmly. “Besides, if he’s stupid, which he won’t be, there’s like a zero percent chance Bato will let him get away with it.” 

Zuko smiles weakly at his sister and they start up the steps to the palace, Katara linking arms with him. 

“Honestly,” Katara sighs. “I thought you’d gotten at least a little smarter than when we were kids.” 

“Okay, well, now that’s a stretch.” Zuko retorts. “You _know_ I’ve gotten dumber.” 

* * *

  
  


The war room is empty, save for the Dai Li posted at every door, and Zuko frowns, glancing out the window, where the sun has almost risen completely.   
  
“We’re not late.” He says. “Not sure why no one’s here,” 

Katara shrugs. “I’m sure they’ll be here soon. Don’t worry.” 

The Dai Li stationed by the door makes an imperceptible movement, and Zuko stills, the hairs on the back of his neck raising. Katara, busying herself laying out the maps, doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Katara.” He says quietly. 

“Hmm?” She doesn’t even glance up. 

The agent moves again, and Zuko barely has a moment to throw up a blast of fire and duck as a glove of stone flies over his head. He grabs Katara’s wrist and pulls her down as the man starts towards them. Great slabs rise out of the ground and cover all the entrances and windows.

“What are you doing?” Zuko demands. Katara is poised to strike, ice daggers formed above her head. 

The man doesn’t answer, simply flicks his wrist and allows the slab covering the entrance to fall back into the floor. 

A girl dressed in Earth greens, bright golds, walks in, and raises one black eyebrow at them. 

“My, my,” She says, in a voice a little too grandiose for her short stature, the baby fat still clinging to her cheeks. “You’re really taking this impersonation thing to heart, aren’t you?” 

“Azula?” Zuko lowers his hands. The girl’s golden eyes narrow, her jaw sets. 

  
“ _And_ you did your research! Impressive.” She turns to Katara, and bares her teeth in a sharp imitation of a smile. “You must be one of the little water peasants traveling with the Avatar!” 

Katara moves forward, growling,“And you must be a raging bi-” 

Zuko grabs her arm and digs his nails into it, pulling her back, as Azula allows a blue flame to appear on her finger. 

“She has a mouth on her! Well, wish I could stay and chat,” Azula says, flicking her hair behind her shoulders. “But unfortunately, I have prior obligations. Don’t worry, I’ll come visit you all in a while. Hm, I could use an estimate though- Tell me, how long do you think it’ll take the Avatar to come save you?” 

Katara’s eyes widen. “You little-” 

Azula laughs, and nods at the Dai Li agents surrounding them on all sides. 

“Throw them in the catacombs.” 

* * *

  
  


Zuko lands hard on his shoulder onto the stone of the catacomb floor. 

“ _Zuko!”_ Katara pulls him up as the hole above them shuts and plunges the cell into a gray half-light, lit only by the crystals surrounding them. 

  
“I’m okay, I’m okay.” He mumbles, pulling off her hand. “Are you?” 

There’s a thin cut across Katara’s nose dripping red, but she nods. 

“Fine. You- you knew her?” 

Zuko sits up and leans against the wall, covers his eyes with his hands. 

“She’s my sister.” Zuko says dully. Besides him, Katara stills. 

_“She’s_ your sister? She was _that_ Azula?” 

“Yeah.” 

Iroh had told him stories of her- firebending prodigy, top of her class, began attending war meetings at twelve at her father’s right hand. 

“No offense, Zuko, but she kinda sucks.” Katara grumbles and falls next to him. 

“Yeah.” He repeats. 

Iroh had also told him stories of quiet afternoons playing Pai Sho, two girls from her Academy whom she protected with the fierceness of a dragon guarding its eggs, old stories of trips to Ember Island, playing in the waves. 

Wait. Iroh. 

“How did she get in the city?” He asks roughly, sitting up. Katara blinks. 

“What? I don’t know.” 

“Katara. How could she have gotten into Ba Sing Se without help? Iroh- I told you, he’s been doing some shady stuff-” 

“No, Zuko, he’s not-” 

“How do we know?” Zuko stands suddenly. “We can’t trust him. I knew we couldn’t trust him. Now Azula’s in the city, and we have no way of stopping Aang from coming back when he realizes you’re in danger- and she’s gonna-” 

His breath is catching in his throat, he’s dizzy in a way he hasn’t been in years- they’re in danger, his family’s in danger- 

Two small hands plant themselves on his shoulders and force him back down to the ground. 

  
“Breathe.” Katara says firmly. “In and out, Zuko.” 

  
He shoves the heels of his hands into his eyes and tries, matching Katara’s gentle instruction. 

“I c-can’t, I can’t-” 

“You can.” Katara says. “In and out.” 

He digs his nails into his scalp, bites down on his lip, and the small jolts of pain cut through the overwhelming static. 

Zuko takes a deep breath, and forces his eyes open to find his sister kneeling in front of him, one hand on her water skin. 

“You better now?” She asks kindly. Zuko nods, doesn’t trust himself to speak, and Katara sits back on her legs. 

“What were you gonna do with the water?” He says, after his heart stops pounding in his ears. 

Katara shrugs. “I was gonna try dumping it on you. Thought maybe it’d shock you.” 

Zuko lets out a laugh, though it’s not funny at all, and Katara punches his shoulder lightly. 

  
“Let’s not panic yet.” She says. “We don’t know that it’s Iroh that got her in. And hey- two master benders? We can take some earthbenders. Easy-peasy.” 

* * *

  
  


They spend hours in the catacombs, until Zuko can feel that the sun has set completely, and Yue has risen. Katara practices pulling water out of the air and fills up her half-empty water skin. 

Zuko is slumped over, focusing on creating a precise line of fire with two fingers, when the wall to their right drops down. He jumps up as Katara gasps and throws her water above her head. 

  
“Katara! Zuko!” Aang emerges from the dark, looking dirty, but not any worse for the wear. “You’re okay?” 

“Aang?” Katara drops the water as Aang throws his arms around her. “What- how are you-” 

“Iroh helped me find you.” Aang says as he hugs Zuko, too.  
  


Iroh steps into the light, and Zuko straightens up, pulls away from Aang. 

“I’m so glad you all are alright.” Iroh says in relief, stepping forward. 

“Stay where you are.” Zuko orders, and Iroh stops in his place, eyes widening. 

“What?” Aang turns. “Zuko, he’s-” 

“How did Azula get in the city?” Zuko asks, and tries to ignore how his voice shakes. 

Iroh places his hands on his thighs, palms out. 

“Nephew, I know how this looks, but I swear to you I didn’t aid your sister.”

“Why should I believe you?” Zuko demands. “Who knows what she’s even doing right now?” 

Iroh sighs and shuts his eyes. 

“Probably attempting to depose the Earth King.” He admits. 

“See!” Zuko whirls around to Katara and Aang, who don’t look nearly as prepared to fight Iroh as he would have hoped. “He helped Azula get in!”

“Actually, Zuko,” Aang says hesitantly. “I don’t think so.”

“How would he have known-” 

  
“Your sister came to see me last night.” Iroh interrupts. “Right after you and Katara left. I wanted to get a message to you, but she posted Dai Li agents outside- if I had tried to tell you, she would have found you immediately. I was trying to buy you time.” 

“And now?” Zuko says furiously. “There’s no way she doesn’t know Aang’s here- and where are Sokka and Toph?” 

“They’re trying to get Kuei out.” Aang says placatingly. 

“Zuko, I’m sorry.” Iroh says softly. “I know you are still struggling to trust me. But right now, We need to work together to get out of here.” 

Zuko stares at him for a second, then slowly lowers his hands. He really doesn’t have a choice, does he?

  
“Fine. What’s the plan?” He asks shortly.

“We’re meeting Toph and Sokka in the catacombs, and then meeting up with your dad’s fleet.” Aang says. There’s a rumble of Earth to the side of him, and he immediately stomps, creating a tunnel in front of Zuko. “We should go. Like, now.” 

* * *

“This is it?” Zuko stares around at the large cavern Aang’s led them into, lit up with green crystals not unlike the one’s Bumi had encased them in, months ago. 

“Yeah,” Aang says, sitting down. “We just have to wait.” 

“Okay.” Zuko can’t shake the prickling feeling of unease on the back of his neck, but he sits down anyways. “Okay.” 

  
“Hey, how was your training with Guru Pathik?” Katara asks, idly pulling water from a decrepit fountain a few feet away. Aang goes slightly pink and rubs his head. 

“Oh, uh, good.”

“Did you master the Avatar State?” 

“More or less?” Aang says unconvincingly, and Zuko raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t push it. 

Iroh hums and sits cross-legged a few feet away, back straight, eyes closed. 

“I don’t trust this.” He announces.

“Neither do I,” Zuko scoffs. “But what else are we supposed to do?”

“I’m not sure, nephew.” Iroh is annoyingly disaffected by Zuko’s obvious attitude. “I think we just need to be wary.” 

“How could Azula possibly know where we are?” Aang rolls his eyes. “I know you guys keep saying she’s a prodigy, but like, come on-” 

The wall across the room from them crumbles down to the ground, and Azula emerges from a tunnel, Dai Li agents lined up behind her, their numbers stretching into the darkness. 

“You just _had_ to say it, huh, Aang?” Katara mutters, as Zuko jumps to his feet, hands out in front of him. 

“Look at this! It’s like you’re all gift-wrapped and ready to send!” Azula crows, stretching out her arms as though she’s preparing for a friendly spar. “Too kind of you to make this easy.” 

“Trust me, Azula, no one’s going to make this easy for you.” Zuko says. 

“A pity,” She sighs, looking at her hands. “I _just_ got my nails done.” She doesn’t bother turning around towards the Dai Li backing her, simply nods her head. “Go fetch.” 

Crystal encases Iroh up to his shoulders, and Zuko lets out a cry, running towards him as Aang and Katara charge toward the Dai Li. 

“Go!” Iroh tells him. “I’ll be fine, Zuko, don’t worry about me!”

“Uncle-”  
“ _GO!”_

Zuko goes. 

Vaguely, distantly, as he whips his leg around his head and lets out a wave of flames into an agent’s unguarded face, Zuko thinks how useful Iroh’s lessons had been. 

Katara and Aang are holding their own, Aang switching somewhat equally between air, water, and earth, and Katara freezing agents to the spot, so Zuko can focus on his sister, who’s sitting back with a practiced casual expression, not even lifting a finger. 

“AZULA!” he roars, and Azula raises one eyebrow at him. “Leave us _alone!”_

“I’m a little busy,” She says cheerfully, “Take it up with my secretary, please-” She throws up both arms to disperse the wall of flames Zuko sends at her. Azula sits up and narrows her eyes. 

“You really aren’t going to go down without a fight, are you, you little fraud?” 

“ _Bite me.”_ Zuko says hoarsely. 

Azula stands, and with a grace Zuko could only aspire to, performs a series of complex katas that surround him with blue flames. 

It’s not a balanced fight, not even close. Azula’s fire is blisteringly hot, and singes whatever it gets within a few inches of, and it’s clear within seconds that her technical ability far surpasses his own. Though, Zuko thinks with a faraway, vague feeling of vindication, as he takes her flames, whips them around his head and back at her surprised face, she’s clearly only ever studied firebending forms.

Katara lets out a surprised yell behind him, and Zuko whips around to find her on the ground, Aang unconscious in her arms, Dai Li agents closing in. She has one arm up, prepared to raise a wave from the ground water, and Zuko’s about to move towards them when a hot hand flips him onto the ground. Azula stands above him, eyes glinting an icy gold in the dim light, teeth bared. 

“If you thought you could get away with impersonating a member of the Royal Family, you are _sorely_ mistaken,” She hisses, grabbing his collar. 

“Impersonating-?” Zuko says, and suddenly, understanding blooms in his head. “Azula, I’m not impersonating anyone-”  
“Shut up!” She yells. “The scar, even. How far were you willing to go to drag my brother out of his final rest?” 

“Azula.” Zuko says, and he does the only thing that might shock her enough to listen. He drops his hands. Stops fighting. “Azula, I’m Zuko. I’m your brother.” 

She drops him, her eyes wide, and backs away. 

Zuko moves forward slowly, hands out in front of him. 

“Azula,” He says, and Azula shakes her head, her jaw clenched tight.  
  
“No.” She says. 

“Azula, when I was nine and you were seven, we went to Ember Island for the weekend with Mom and Dad, Uncle Iroh and Lu Ten.” 

“Shut up!” 

“-and Dad was making us practice our katas, and I kept messing up- he yelled at us-” 

“No, no-” 

“And you took me down to the beach, and you ran through the the exercise with me until I could do it perfectly, and you hugged me, and you said, you said-”  
 _  
“Stop it!”_

“You said, ‘I wish he didn’t yell at us.” and I said-” Zuko stops and takes a deep, shuddering breath, unable to see anything but the panic behind his sister’s eyes, the fear on her face. “- I said, “it doesn’t matter how much he yells at you. You’ll always have me to make you look good’.” 

Azula shakes her head again, her fingers pointed straight out. 

“No, no. It’s not- it’s not _possible_ ,” She says, and her voice cracks. 

“I don’t understand it either, Azula, but please, you have to-” 

“No!” She screams. “No- I watched him hurt you- I saw you in the infirmary- I saw you _die._ You can’t be here, because I watched you _burn_.” 

“Azula.” Zuko says, and can’t stop the sob that erupts out of his chest. “Azula, please.” 

_“YOU’RE NOT MY BROTHER!”_

Many things happen in quick succession. 

Azula screams, cracked and bloody, and moves her hands in a deliberate circular motion. 

The space around her crackles with energy. 

She points two fingers up as white lightning appears out of thin air, and aims it directly at Aang, who’s still slumped over in Katara’s arms. 

And Zuko- he doesn’t think, he can’t think, _he won’t let Aang get hurt_ \- he dives as Azula shoots. 

By the time he hits the ground, a cacophony of screams has erupted across his chest, traveling up his neck and along his chi path as he moves his arms- and then- it stops. 

* * *

The grass under his head is soft. It tickles at the skin on the back of his neck.

A river flows gently, a warmth presses down on him at all sides, and Zuko doesn’t need to open his eyes to know exactly where he is. He scrambles up- unsteady as something crackles on his chest- and finds no one waiting at the bank of the river for him. 

  
Zuko reaches up and presses two fingers under his jaw. Nothing-nothing-nothing beats out a taunting rhythm.

“Where are you?” He asks roughly, wheeling around. 

There’s nothing around him but fields of endless green, a river that stretches beyond where he can see. 

“You- you keep fucking with me, and now, _now,_ you don’t show up? What? Are you _done_ with me, you coward? You got your use out of me, and now you get to _leave?”_

He moves to the bank of the river, deadened hand closing around the golden hair at the crest of his forehead, and Zuko laughs, though it sounds more like a sob.

“ _Fuck you.”_

His heart is skipping in his chest, his breath stuttering in his throat, as he pulls-pulls-pulls, ignoring the sharp pain, until a chunk of yellow strands come off in his hand. Zuko stares at it for a moment before he throws it into the river, and watches it sink to the bottom of the clear blue water. 

“Fuck you.” He cries, and he sinks to his knees.

“What a shame.” A soft voice says behind him. “You always had such beautiful hair.” 

Zuko turns slowly, unable to trust what he is hearing.

His mother stands a few steps away in simple red robes, dark hair loose around her face- her round, kind face- her eyebrows furrowed in concern, her arms wide open. 

“Mom,” He says, and his voice cracks in two. 

“Oh, my baby,” She murmurs as he falls into her embrace. ”Oh, my little prince.” 

“Mom, I, I-” He can’t breathe right, he can’t speak, he can’t, he can’t he can’t-  
  


“I know.” She says, and presses her cheek to the top of his head, sinking to her knees as he sags to the ground. “It’s alright. It’s alright.” 

“No- no, I can’t-” Zuko digs his nails into the soft cloth of her robes, wants to stay there forever, can’t stand one more second pressed to her shoulder, wrenches away. “I- I- Azula, she-” 

She shakes her head, and Zuko can see how her eyes shine with tears, even in the absence of the sun. 

“I know, baby.” She says. She holds his face with both hands and tilts his chin up, and Zuko’s whole body shakes. “Oh, my sweet boy. She isn’t the only one who hurt you.” 

Zuko sobs.

“Why-” he gasps out, tears clouding his eyes until he can barely see anything. “Why did you leave- why did leave me?” 

“Oh, honey.” She says, and there are gentle fingers on his cheeks, wiping away the constant stream of tears. “Baby, I didn’t want to. It was for the best. I was trying to protect you and your sister.” She stills, and fingers ghost over the rough edges of his scarred eye. “My little prince. I am so sorry I was not successful.” 

“I c-can’t- Mom, I- I’m so _tired-”_

“I know, baby. You’re exhausted. You’re carrying the world on your shoulders. You can rest, sweet boy. I will not leave you.” 

Zuko can barely keep his eyes open as his mother guides him down to the ground, runs her hand over his forehead. 

  
“Promise?” He mumbles, and doesn’t hear the answer as she sweeps his eyes shut, and the world fades around him. 

* * *

  
  


He wakes alone. 

Zuko stares up into the blue sky above him, dry eyes burning, head pounding, and wonders how long he could lay here before the grass grows over him, leaving nothing but picked-clean bones and useless intent behind. 

“No, I have not abandoned you.” 

Zuko can’t even stand. He turns his head to the side. The woman is dressed in bright whites, though her chest is stained bright red and it drips down the folds of her robes. 

  
“I’m done.” He manages to say, and shuts his eyes. “I’m done.” 

When his eyes open again, he sits at the bank of the river.

“Mortals never cease to surprise me.” Agni says, her hands gentle and warm as she pulls Zuko’s ragged hair back into a simple braid down his back. “To think that you can decide what direction your single drop of water flows in the river of fate.” 

Zuko is silent until he sags down on his knees on the sand. A gentle hand pushes him forward until he is staring into the reflection of the water below him. 

His own face peers back up at him- his hair pulled into a top-knot, a golden, five-pronged crown secured around it, a black collar high about his neck. On his left is Aang, his jaw more defined, his eyes deeper in his face, and on his right, his siblings. Toph behind them, Suki next to her, Hakoda, Bato, Yura, Panuk, Iroh-

Millions of faces, souls, stretch out in front of him in every permutation possible, every age, every nation, every era. 

“You were meant to help restore balance to this world, light-child.” Agni says. Zuko turns and stares at her bright face, now shifting between every race, every person, eyes gold one second, brown the next, blue the second after, the longer he stares. 

“I’m so tired.” He mumbles. “I’m just- I don’t even know if they’re okay. If Aang’s still alive. My brother. My sisters. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t-” 

Agni nods once. 

“Your spirit is exhausted, child, I know.” She says softly. “You did your part when you helped find the Avatar and set him on the right path towards his destiny. If you want to be done, then you may be done. It is your decision.” 

“I’m just tired.” Zuko says hoarsely, and covers his eyes again. “I’m just really, really tired.” 

* * *

  
  


Zuko is deadly still, deathly pale, under Katara’s grasp as they fly out of Ba Sing Se and towards the coast. His head lolls back as she pulls out the last drop of the Spirit Water from the North and bends it onto his chest. 

“Toph?” She asks shakily. Toph, her fingers wrapped tight around Zuko’s wrist, two fingers digging into his pulse-point, shakes her head. 

“Nothing.” She whispers. 

“You- you have to try, Katara-” Aang says fiercely. 

“I am, Aang, I- this is the last of it, I don’t-” Katara’s voice breaks. “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know-” 

“But -” Aang stares at Zuko, at the massive, sprawling red wound over his chest. “It’s not fair. It’s not _fair-_ ” 

“There isn’t a law that says the Spirits have to be fair.” Sokka says coldly from Appa’s head. The reins are clutched white-knuckled between his hands, his shoulders hunched over. “They can do whatever they want, and we can’t do-” Sokka stops suddenly. He’s silent for a moment, and then he straightens up and turns around. “Do what you can, Katara. We’ll be at Dad’s ship in a few hours.” 

Katara nods again, tears on her face but a stoney determination in her eyes, and Aang sits frozen at Zuko’s head as the water on his chest begins to glow a blinding white. 

  
“Please,” She begs quietly, trying to force the water deeper into his chest, still unmoving. “Please, Zuko. Stay here. Stay with us. _Please.”_

* * *

  
  


“The kids are here.” Bato says, as he pulls open Hakoda’s door, not even bothering to knock. 

Hakoda jumps up from his desk, suddenly full of a nervous energy as he follows Bato up the stairwell. Bato stops him before they step out onto the deck. 

  
“It’s gonna be okay, Koda.” he says, and knocks his forehead against his. 

“Who said it wasn’t?” Hakoda scoffs, and Bato, blessedly, doesn’t call him out on how his hands are shaking as he turns the doorknob, and only squeezes his arm. 

The rain, only a light drizzle an hour before, has turned into a torrential downpour, and Hakoda can barely see the bison as it lands on the deck. He moves closer, one hand over his eyes to shield them from the rain as the massive beast folds down onto its knees. 

  
Sokka is sitting on the bison’s head, but he doesn’t respond to Hakoda’s wave of greeting, instead climbing back into the saddle. A young girl dressed in greens climbs down, one arm clutching the Avatar, but neither acknowledges them, and Bato steps forward. 

“Hakoda,” he murmurs, rough nails digging into his forearm. “Hakoda, something’s wrong-” 

The words have barely left Bato’s mouth before Hakoda is hurrying forward. Katara is slowly climbing down the Bison’s side, and when she gets down to the deck, she seems barely able to stand, and the Avatar rushes to her side.

Her head drops down. Hakoda crouches down and lifts his daughter’s chin up, barely even able to acknowledge that it’s been nearly two years since he’s seen her, only able to see how swollen and bloodshot her eyes are, the bruising and dried blood on her face.  
  


“Katara,” He asks urgently. “What’s wrong?” 

Katara lets out a sob and shakes her head, turning into the Avatar’s shoulder, and Hakoda realizes, with a jolt of nausea, that Sokka is still in the saddle.

And that Zuko hasn’t come down. 

He leaps onto the bison’s back and into the saddle, where Sokka is bent over someone lying prone, struggling to pick them up. 

“Sokka-” he asks, strangled. Sokka doesn’t even respond, as though he can’t- or won’t- hear him. 

Hakoda needs to move forward. See who’s under that blanket, so still, chest unmoving. 

Hakoda wants nothing less than to confirm what he already knows. 

Sokka’s shoulders are shaking. Hakoda forces himself forward, one hand coming across Sokka’s back. 

Ink-black hair, plastered to pale skin by the rain, peeks out from under the blankets. 

His son’s face is shock-white, and his eyes are half-open but unseeing, as Sokka attempts, again, to pick him up. 

“Zuko.” Hakoda says, shaking the boy’s shoulder. He’s as still as he was, all those years ago, laying on his back in a cave of ice and snow. Hakoda shakes harder. “Zuko. Zuko-” 

“Dad-” Sokka pulls his hand back. “Stop. He’s-” 

  
Sokka takes a deep, shuddering breath, and when he finally meets Hakoda’s eyes, there’s a terrifying emptiness behind the ice-blue. 

“He’s gone.” 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	9. Hakoda Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko could almost look asleep, like this. Like any moment, he’ll wake up. Say something stupidly obnoxious to Hakoda. Go to bother his siblings.
> 
> He doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ the last chapter. Y’all. 😳😳
> 
> We hit 100 comments overnight. I was having the time of my life reading how outraged everyone was. I wanted to reply to all of them but it’s WAY more than 100 now so please just know I read every one and loved them all- especially the ones where u were just cursing me out, cus like, mood, honestly
> 
> Thank you very much to my beta extraordinaire, @agentcalliope (tumblr and AO3)!!!

* * *

  
Two months ago, during an ill-advised raid on a Fire Nation ship off the coast of Whale Tail Island, Amaruq caught a spear to the throat. 

Tulok, falling to his knees to catch Amaruq as he dropped, let out a blood-curdling cry so inhuman, so familiar in its pain, it made Hakoda’s throat close. 

They had retreated, their numbers smaller, their men burned and beaten and bloody. 

Tulok sat by Amaruq’s wrapped body for the full twenty-four hours of vigil before they returned him to the sea. His armour was still strapped on, blood drying rusted on his face, his hands. No one could move Tulok from where he sat, get him to eat, sleep, his wounds taken care of. 

Hakoda knew, desperately wished he didn’t, what Tulok was doing. 

  
After all, he’s done it before. 

And he’s doing it again. 

Sokka’s hands are shaking so uncontrollably as he tries to pick up Zuko again that his shoulders fall from Sokka’s grasp. Sokka leans over Zuko’s chest, his forehead barely touching the sprawling wound that covers Zuko’s pale skin, and he doesn’t make a noise. 

Not when Hakoda gently pulls him back.

Not when Bato climbs up and wraps his arms around Sokka’s trembling shoulders, turning his face away. 

Not when Hakoda leans down and gathers the boy’s body in his arms, and climbs back down the bison, careful to not look at the children staring at him, his daughter sobbing into the Avatar’s shoulder, the faces of his men, as he passes. 

Zuko is still warm against Hakoda’s chest when he places him down on his bed. Hakoda carefully closes his son’s half-open eyes, sweeps back his singed hair, and re-arranges his tunic to cover the massive red trauma on his chest. 

If Hakoda hadn’t checked his pulse himself for any sign of life, ghosted his hand over his mouth for _any_ breath escaping his lungs, and found none, Zuko could almost look asleep, like this. Like any moment, he’ll wake up. Say something stupidly obnoxious to Hakoda. Go to bother his siblings.

He doesn’t. 

He stays still on the bed, and he doesn’t move. 

“I’m sorry, Dad.” Katara’s voice breaks behind him. 

Hakoda turns. The kids have followed him in. Katara’s arms are wrapped tight around her stomach. Sokka is staring at Zuko with a blank expression on his face.

“I-I’m sorry. I- he got shot with lightning, and I-I tried, I really tried, I couldn’t- I couldn’t-” Katara’s breath is coming quick and stuttered and Hakoda has dealt with this too many times to not know what happens next. 

“Oh, baby.” Hakoda moves- can’t think about what his daughter just said, can’t allow himself to _feel_ , and wraps her up tight in his arms. “It’s not your fault. It’s not.” 

“It- it is.” She says, cracked, into his chest. “Dad, I was the only one who could have healed him, and I couldn’t-” 

“Katara, no.” Sokka says, suddenly, and Hakoda looks up. “You did everything you could. It’s not your fault Zuko’s-” 

Sokka cuts off. Looks down. A deep whine comes from the back of his son’s throat, like he’s suppressing a sob. Hakoda shuts his eyes for a second, begs Tui for the strength to continue for just one more second, and pulls Sokka close to him. 

His children hang onto him like they’re afraid he’ll disappear the moment he lets go. He clings to them with the same desperation. 

They stay where they are, in the quarters of a captured Fire Nation ship, hundreds of miles from home, and yet, the cycle of shock and fear and anger and the terrifying sadness of grief is all too familiar a beast.   
  


* * *

The kids cry themselves out within an hour. Hakoda carefully carries them out of the room where Zuko’s body lays and tucks them into bed in the same room that the Avatar and the little girl- Aang and Toph, he’s told are their names, are sleeping, and shuts the door quietly. 

Bato is waiting outside, his arms crossed, his head bowed. Hakoda looks away. Something is fighting to claw its way out of his throat, and the minute Bato looks at him, Hakoda will let it. 

He’s started down the hall, unsure of where he’s going, just that he has to _go,_ when Bato catches his arm.

  
“Koda.” 

Is all he says. 

It’s rough around the edges, somehow still soft in the middle. 

Hakoda- 

He breaks. 

Bato is swift, steady, a rock, as he wraps both arms around him and holds him tight. 

Hakoda, he wants to explode. He wants to disappear. He wants to burn down the entire world for the arrogance, the sheer injustice, of giving him a son, and taking him away. 

Instead, Hakoda sinks to his knees, head pressed to Bato’s chest. Bato pulls him as close as possible, tangles his hand in his wolf’s tail. 

“I-” Hakoda gasps out. “Bato. I fucked up- I, I-” 

“Koda.” Bato says softly. “You couldn’t have known. You couldn’t have known.” 

“Zuko.” He manages to say, and it hurts like someone’s slipped a knife between his ribs. “Zuko, _Zuko-_ oh, spirits-” 

“I know.” Bato says. “I know, I know, I know. “

Someone screams, a cracked, guttural, bloody thing, and it takes Hakoda a minute to connect the sound to the grating rawness of his throat, his open mouth. 

* * *

  
At some point, the screams fade into darkness.

When Hakoda wakes, he’s in Bato’s room, a fur thrown over him. Bato is sitting in a chair next to him, eyes glazed over with a faraway look. He smiles vacantly at Hakoda, reaches over as he sits up. 

“How do you feel?” He asks. Hakoda meets his blank eyes, the ache in his head, his throat, his heart. 

“We need to bind him.” Hakoda says. “We need to-” 

“Yeah.” Bato confirms. He holds up his hands. A heap of gray fabric sits Bato’s lap, along with Hakoda’s bone-knife. 

“Did the kids-” Hakoda looks down. “Did they- tell you?” 

Bato carefully slits another long piece of fabric. 

“They were in Ba Sing Se.” Bato says, eyes averted, steady hands shaking. “The Crown Princess showed up. I guess- the Avatar said she tried to kill him. Zuko dove in front, took the hit.” 

“He took the hit.” Hakoda repeats, curls his hands up. Bato smiles, though there’s no joy behind it. 

“‘Course he did. Would you expect anything else?” Bato asks. 

“No.” Hakoda says. “No. Of course I wouldn’t.” 

Bato puts down the knife and leans forward, grasping the back of Hakoda’s neck and pulling their foreheads close. 

“He was trying to protect them.” Bato says quietly. “That’s the only thing we can ask of anyone. The kindest, noblest way to go, Koda.” 

“I know.” Hakoda gasps, grasps his wrist. “I just- I should have-” 

“Uh.” The half-open door creaks, and Hakoda jumps back. 

Zuko is standing in the doorway, tunic untied, face whiter than snow, one hand on his head, as though it aches, and the other over the unbound wound on his chest. Hakoda glances at Bato, needs to confirm he’s not hallucinating, but no, Bato’s eyes are wide and confused too. 

“Where?” Zuko asks, voice raspier than Hakoda has ever heard it, but full of _life._ “Where am I?” 

And then he falls.   
  


* * *

  
Sokka lies awake in the small bunk Dad deposited him in. Katara is only a few feet away, curled into the wall, but Sokka is keeping an eye on her chest, as it rises and falls with her breaths. 

He just needs to make sure she’s- 

Sokka covers his face with the pillow to muffle the cries he can hear outside the door, the sobs threatening to escape his mouth. 

He’d woken up when Dad picked him up to carry him. Knew he should have told Dad he was awake, gotten down, walked himself. 

But the part of him that had a vision of Zuko writhing on the ground with pain, burned onto his retinas, wanted to not be responsible anymore. To not have the weight of the fate of the world rest on his shoulders, the iron collar of grief around his neck. To be young again and have his father carry him to bed after he falls asleep at a bonfire. 

So he let Dad tuck him into bed. And then Dad stood, left the room, closed the door, and Dad promptly fell apart. 

Sokka can hear Dad’s cries, interspersed with Bato’s low, soothing tone, and, all of a sudden, he _is_ young again, but his mother’s blood is stained into the snow, and Sokka can barely breathe for how heavy his chest feels. 

The screaming stops, as suddenly as it started, and Sokka turns in towards the wall, his stomach twisting itself into knots. He prays to anyone who will listen to just, _please, please, please,_ knock him unconscious. Please.   
  


* * *

  
Someone hears his prayers, because Sokka suddenly finds himself jerked back into consciousness as quickly as he left it. He lays in the darkness for a second, wondering what woke him, before he hears it again- shouts of surprises, someone talking loudly. Sokka is up and out of bed, running towards the door, before he even fully registers what’s happening. 

  
“What- what’s going on?” Aang sits up as Sokka wrenches the door open. 

Down the hall, Dad is on the floor, cradling someone in his arms, and when he looks up at Sokka, his eyes are wide and crazed in a way Sokka has only ever seen once. 

  
“Get your sister!” Dad orders. “Sokka, now!” 

“Dad-” 

The body in Dad’s arms has jet-black hair, a streak of gold in the front. 

The body’s chest is rising and falling. 

The body is- it’s _alive._

Sokka spins on his heel and grabs Katara as Aang is shaking her awake. 

  
“What, Sokka, what-” Katara is saying, in a cracked, fearful voice, as Sokka pulls her by the arm and marches her outside. 

She stares at Zuko, whose eyes are fluttering open and closed, Dad running a gentle hand over his cheek, for just a second before she takes off down the hall, Sokka at her heels. 

“How-” Katara asks, breathless, pulling water from her water skin and immediately pressing it to Zuko’s chest. 

Dad’s face is swollen, eyes red. He shakes his head. 

“I-I don’t know. He showed up at my door. Katara, I need you to-”  
“Okay, okay-” 

Katara’s clearly still in shock. The water under her hands glows.

Sokka stands, turns away, pulls at his hair by the root as his heart skips in his chest. He won’t watch. He can’t. 

Toph and Aang are standing a few feet away. Aang hurries close and grabs Sokka’s arm. Toph’s jaw drops open. 

  
“Zuko- Zuko’s heart.” She says. 

Katara gasps and Sokka turns around. Zuko’s eyes are half-open, and he’s staring up at them with bloodshot golden eyes. Sokka falls to his knees in front of him the same time Dad drops his forehead into Zuko’s hair, eyes shut tight, lips whispering a prayer. 

  
“Oh,” Zuko says, raspy and weak. “I don’t feel good.” 

Katara laughs, wet and not a little hysterical, and Toph, behind Aang, sniffles. 

“It’s beating.” Toph says. “His heart is beating again.” 

* * *

  
Hakoda doesn’t understand any of it. 

But, as Bato is quick to tell him, he doesn’t understand much of anything, anymore. 

So when Zuko’s heart stays strong and steady, even as his eyes flutter back shut as Katara heals him, and then continues to stay steady throughout the night and into the dawn, Hakoda decides he doesn’t need to understand what force brought his son back to him, or why. 

He just needs to be grateful for it. 

* * *

Zuko stays unconscious as the days bleed into nights into days into weeks. Hakoda shoves off most of his responsibilities onto Bato in favor of sitting next to Zuko, checking his pulse more often than he probably needs to, and piling on blankets. 

He wakes for minutes at a time every so often, which is barely enough time for Hakoda to force nutrients down his throat and periodically change him into fresh sleep clothes. Katara changes his bandages and works on healing him. The other kids eschew offers of games and training from the crew in favor of crowding into Hakoda’s little room, day after day, as though their mere presence will cause Zuko to wake. More often than not, Hakoda will come back to the room after night duties to find his kids, if not all of the kids, asleep in various positions around the room. 

Tonight is no exception. 

It’s Bato’s turn to sit with Zuko. Hakoda had protested, but Bato had raised one eyebrow, and that was enough to shut Hakoda’s mouth tight. Still, he can’t stop himself from stumbling back to his room to check on them just one last time before heading back to Bato’s room for the night. 

He quietly opens the door, and Bato immediately jumps up, one finger pressed to his lips. 

Zuko, as always, is huddled under the blankets, only the very top of his forehead and his hair visible. But to his right, Sokka is pressed against his shoulder, and Katara is slumped into his other side, one arm draped over both of her brothers. 

Bato’s lip is quirked up. He settles one arm around Hakoda’s waist, and Hakoda stands still for a second, and allows himself to take in the unparalleled luxury of all of the people he loves in one room- with each other, and _alive, alive, alive._

* * *

  
Zuko sits straight up around mid-day, a few weeks after the lightning strike. Hakoda, sitting at the desk and writing letters while the kids play an elaborate card game on the ground, stills. 

His blanket is caught around his shoulders, his hair an absolute wreck, and he blinks a few times, before he announces, 

“I’m really hungry.” 

Katara launches herself at him with a cry, and the rest of the kids follow suit, crowding onto his bed. 

“Ow,” Zuko manages to complain, making bleary eye contact with Hakoda over Sokka’s shoulder. “I just said I was _hungry._ Why are you hugging me _?_ ” 

“Oh!” Katara pulls back, whacking at everyone else until they let him go. “Oh, how do you feel?” 

Zuko looks down at his chest, nose wrinkling when he finds white bandaging wrapped around his midsection. 

“Like I got hit with lightning.” He says, and the startled laugh that exits Hakoda’s mouth is almost foreign to him.

* * *

  
“-and then Azula shot lightning, and I went into the Avatar state, and we escaped Ba Sing Se on Appa, and we landed on your dad’s ship and now we’re here!” Aang says, making a big gesture with his hands. 

Zuko, halfway through a bowl of broth, makes a face, one hand on his chest. 

“You okay, Zuko?” Hakoda asks, sitting on the opposite side of the room, and tries to keep his concerned tone to a minimum. Zuko nods. 

“Yeah, fine.” He says, and turns back to Aang. “What happened to Iroh?” 

Aang’s face falls. 

“Azula captured him.” He says quietly. “We tried to get him out, but we just didn’t have time. I’m- I’m sorry, Zuko.” 

“What? Why are you sorry?” Zuko asks, and Aang just looks confused. 

“Because?” Aang says. “You took that lightning for _me_ , and I couldn’t even get Iroh out-” 

“So?” Zuko interrupts, crossing his arms. “What, would it have been better if you took it?” 

“Well, yeah-“ 

“No.” Zuko says, resolute, sharp. “No, Aang. Stop. You did everything you could. Thinking like that’s only gonna mess you up, and you’re gonna be stuck in the past, wondering about all the things you did wrong. I’ll never regret taking that shot for you, so don’t regret what happened after.” 

Aang stares at him for a second, before he launches himself at Zuko and wraps his arms around his neck. Zuko makes wide, confused eye contact with Hakoda, and Hakoda does absolutely nothing to help, shrugging. 

“You should give yourself more credit, Zuko.” Aang mumbles into his shoulder, holding tighter until Zuko hugs him back. “I _told_ you that being born a prince of the Fire Nation doesn’t change who you are, inside. I _told_ you.” 

The confused eye contact quickly averts to the bed, and Zuko’s shoulders hunch up. 

Hakoda knew they’d need to have this conversation. 

He just didn’t think it would be so soon. 

“Aang,” Hakoda calls, and the Avatar reluctantly disengages from him. “I need to speak with Zuko. Could you go see if Nanook needs help with dinner, please?” 

Aang looks at Zuko, who nods slightly, and then gets up. 

  
“Sure thing. I’ll bring you some as soon as it’s ready, Zuko.” He promises, and then leaves the room. 

Zuko immediately draws into himself as the door shuts, knees to his chest, arms wrapped tight, head ducked. 

“Zuko.” Hakoda says gently, pulling his chair to the edge of the bed. “Please look at me.” 

“You know.” Zuko says into his knees. 

“I do.” Hakoda says, careful to keep his voice soft. “Please, look at me.” 

Zuko drags his head up, and Hakoda sees that his eyes are already rimmed red. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, voice rough. 

“You’re sorry?” Hakoda repeats. 

“I-I’m sorry. I’m sure you wouldn’t have- have kept me if you knew, and now everyone’s dropped everything to take care of me, and I’m still the fucking _son of the Fire Lord-”_

“Zuko.” Hakoda interrupts, and slowly reaches out to put one hand on his shaking shoulder. “Tui, I-I don’t even know where to start. It’s not your _fault_ , you know that, right?” 

  
Zuko shakes his head. 

“Doesn’t matter. Fault doesn’t matter.” 

“It does.” Hakoda insists, and takes a deep breath. “Zuko, just- answer me this.” 

Zuko quiets. 

“Do you approve of this war, or the Fire Nation’s conquest at all?” 

“What?” Zuko’s head whips up, eyes narrowing. “Of course not!” 

“Right. Did you aid Princess Azula when she took over Ba Sing Se?” 

“No! No, I would never-” 

“Do you want peace?” 

“Of _course_ I do!” 

“Did you spend the past months traveling with the Avatar, and keeping everyone safe, even to the hazard of your own life?” 

“I-”  
  
Zuko cuts off. 

“I tried to.” He whispers. 

“You did.” Hakoda says. “Zuko, you did. Yes, I know who you are, I found out before you ever landed on this ship. But you aren’t the Fire Lord, and you’re not Azula- you didn’t _do_ those things-” 

“He’s still my father.” Zuko cuts in forcefully. “ It’s still my blood. Ozai is still my father.” 

Hakoda has to take a deep breath and steady himself for a moment, thinking of a bar in the Earth Kingdom, his hands hauling up a bartender by his tunic, demanding that he repeat what he said, Bato pulling him back, calming him down-

He opens his eyes, and gently turns Zuko’s face so he can see the full extent of the handprint burned into his skin, the fire that smoldered down to his bones until Zuko was nothing but ash. 

Zuko intakes a sharp breath and turns away. 

“Fathers don’t do that to their children.” Hakoda says, and his rage is still barely contained, even after months of processing it. 

“He did.” Zuko croaks out, one hand wrapped tight around his wrist, nails digging into his skin. “He- held me down. It was in front of a crowd. I couldn’t- I couldn’t get away.” 

“Fathers don’t do that.” Hakoda repeats. “You were a child, Zuko.” 

“I spoke up in a meeting. I wasn’t supposed to be there-” 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Hakoda says, and he’ll say it forever if that’s what it takes to get it through Zuko’s skull. “Zuko, it was wrong, and it was cruel, and it wasn’t your fault.” 

Zuko lets out a half-sob, and Hakoda can’t stop himself from moving forward and wrapping him up in a tight hug. Zuko clutches at the back of his cloak, buries his head in his shoulder, and he weeps. 

For a few, long, minutes, Hakoda stays half-bent over the bed, just holding Zuko as he breaks. 

“I know I never told you,” Hakoda starts finally, in the most measured voice he can manage. “I didn’t know if you were ready to hear it, but Zuko- I consider you my son. I have for years. You’re part of my family, and you’re my son.” 

Zuko doesn't say anything, doesn’t seem capable of anything more than clinging onto Hakoda tighter, crying harder, but Zuko has _never_ been good with words, and the way he folds into Hakoda’s chest tells him everything he needs to know about how Zuko feels about that. 

Zuko finally lets go and sits back, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and sniffling. The door creaks, and they both turn their heads to find Katara and Sokka in the doorway. Katara’s eyes are red, and Sokka’s got an arm slung around her shoulders. Zuko holds out his arms, and Katara shoots into them, Sokka following by only a second. They climb onto his bed, as though they’re kids again, falling asleep telling each other stories, and Hakoda closes his hand around the pendant bound around his wrist. 

“Leaving you all was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” Hakoda tells them, tucking Katara’s loose, wet hair behind her ear. “and I am so sorry you have been through so much without me. But I am _so_ proud of you all. You are brave, and you are selfless, and you are all so kind- I couldn’t be more proud to call you my children.” 

“Though,” He adds on, pulling a blanket tighter around Zuko’s shoulders. “I’d appreciate it if you stopped getting into life-threatening situations all the time. Better for my old-man heart.” 

Zuko lets out a wet laugh as Katara makes a sound of indignation. 

“Zuko’s the one who gets hurt all the time!” She says. “I’m perfectly responsible!” 

Sokka and Zuko snort at the same time, and Katara’s cheeks go pink. 

“She challenged a waterbending master to a duel in the North before she ever learned anything.” Zuko says, raising an eyebrow.

“And I’m pretty sure she was trying to kill him.” Sokka adds on. 

Hakoda groans, and only groans harder when Katara crosses her arms and says imperiously, 

“Well, I knew he wouldn’t die if he was as good as he said he was!” 

They continue to bicker good-naturedly, until Katara finally realizes that Zuko’s hair hasn’t been brushed in weeks, and immediately pulls out a brush. Zuko relaxes under her grasp while Sokka discusses Aang’s firebending with him, and Hakoda just sits back and takes it in. 

This is not permanent, he knows.

There is still a war to be won and a Fire Lord to depose, and the fact that his son is technically next in line for the throne does not make things any less complicated. But to be sitting here, with his children, his wonderful, fearless, children, however temporary it may be-

For now, it is enough. 

* * *


	10. The Jasmine Alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Have you heard the tale of the son of the Jasmine Farmer?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello!! Thank you to everyone for being so patient as I took a completely unannounced hiatus from this!!!!!
> 
> for your patience, you get another almost 10k chapter because I don't know what the word moderation means
> 
> and!!! I have recieved not one, not two, but THREE incredible pieces of art work for this fic!! I'll link them below, but you can also find them on my tumblr (@ta1k-less) tagged 'fic art'!!!
> 
> https://autpunk-artist.tumblr.com/post/628922437707366400/spirit-blesswater-tribezuko-from-ta1k-less-s-a
> 
> https://hi-raethia.tumblr.com/post/629072630329262080/light-child-inspired-by-ta1k-lesss-amazing-fic-a
> 
> https://spookiestarts.tumblr.com/post/629998382335803393/zuko-of-the-water-tribe
> 
> as always, thank you to my lovely beta @agentcalliope (ao3 and tumblr), who threatened to murder me if I killed off one of the characters in this chapter. Bonus points to whoever guesses what character it is.

* * *

Zuko makes sure the hallway is clear before he carefully tiptoes out of the room, shutting the door as quietly as he can to avoid waking up Bato, whose eyebags are starting to rival Aang’s. 

Even taking a step makes the wound on his stomach burn, and he hisses a sharp breath before he moves again. Katara had told him in no uncertain terms that he shouldn’t try and move around without help, but it’s apparently been weeks since he’s been outside, and there’s nothing apparent about the lack of sun he feels- which is how he’s currently justifying directly disobeying her. 

Okay, maybe the sun set hours ago, but small, minor details. Maybe he also needs fresh air. Maybe, maybe, he really just needs to sit on the edge of the deck, legs carefully positioned to hang out over the side, stare blankly up at Yue, and try to force the panic that ebbs and flows in his chest back down to a low tide. 

Maybe even attempt the breathing exercises Iroh taught him. Even though Iroh is probably being carted off to some work camp in the far corners of the Fire Nation, or-

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be out of bed.” 

Zuko whips his head around, hands heating, but it’s just Aang. He sits down next to Zuko, resting his chin on the bottom bar of the railing. 

“You gonna tell on me?” He asks. His voice is still rough, even after regularly talking for a few days.

Aang shrugs, gives him a small, heavy smile. “Only if I have to.”

They sit in blessed silence for a minute. Zuko stares down at the dark waves, the cut of the white foam against the hull, and thinks of fishing trips with Sokka and Hakoda, years ago. 

“How are you feeling?” Aang asks.

Zuko resists the urge to snort. The wound on his chest is sprawling; an angry red with a cracked center- a nice, matched set for his face. 

Zuko almost laughs, he really does, because they’re in the middle of a war, and he’s great-grandson of the man who started it, the grandson of the man who perpetuated it, the son of the man waging it. Because his mother is dead and it would be a kinder fate if his uncle was, too. Because his father killed him once, so his sister, who is nothing if not competitive, had to do it, too. 

“I don’t know,” He says instead, because it’s mostly true. 

“Yeah.” Aang says. “Me, either.” 

Aang fiddles with Appa’s whistle, turning it over in his hands, pressing it into his palms. “Hey, Zuko?” He asks quietly, and Zuko turns to look at him, resting his head on his folded arms. “Do you know what happened, after Azula shot you?” 

Zuko shrugs. “You guys came here, I woke up in Hakoda’s room-” 

“No.” Aang says. “Between that. Do you- do you know?” 

Aang sounds close to tears, and his stomach is starting its familiar routine of practicing rope knots on his intestines. 

“Zuko, you-” 

“I know.” Zuko interrupts, sharp. “I died, Aang.” 

Aang usually cries like most kids do; noisy, exuberant, public and unashamed. Now, he ducks his head as silent tears roll down his cheeks, a quiet whine in the back of his throat and Zuko immediately regrets being so blunt.

“I’m here now, though. It’s okay,” He says softly. 

Aang shakes his head. “Zuko, you- you were _gone._ For hours. You were gone. Do you even know-?”

“-How I came back?” Zuko finishes for him. 

“Yeah.” Aang says. “How?” 

* * *

_“Your spirit is exhausted, child, I know.” Agni says softly. “You did your part when you helped find the Avatar and set him on the right path towards his destiny. If you want to be done, then you may be done. It is your decision.”_

_“I’m just tired.” Zuko says hoarsely, and covers his eyes again. “I’m just really, really tired.”_

“ _Then so be it.”_

_There is a warm hand on his forehead, and the world begins to dissolve around him, snow building up on the ice._

_  
__“Wait.”_

_The hand lifts._

_Zuko drags his eyes open, and when he forces himself to look directly at Agni, it burns._

_“My family.” He says. “I can’t leave them.”_

_“I cannot tell you the fate of those around you, child.” Agni says. “Whether the Avatar survived is not my realm.”_

_“So if I go back,” Zuko takes a shuddering breath. “they could all be gone.”_

_“Perhaps.”_

_“But if they’re not-”_

_Katara, eyes wide with terror as the Dai Li closed in. Aang, unconscious in her arms. Sokka and Toph, facing unknown threats miles away-_

_Azula, panicked._

_Covering her ears like a toddler as Zuko spoke, flinching when he mentioned Ozai._

_Burn marks on her arms visible when her sleeves moved._

_“I have to go back.” Zuko says, and his voice cracks. “I have to. I can’t- I can’t leave them.”_

_Agni regards him with an expression betraying nothing._

_“Light-child.” She rises to her feet, and when Zuko blinks, she floats off the ground. “I cannot promise your survival nor safety, but I will allow your decision. Remember that I am always with you, and know that your inner flame is used for more than simple fire.”_

* * *

“I had a choice.” Zuko answers, and hears Aang intake a sharp breath. “I was- I was so tired. But I had a choice, and you and Toph, and my siblings were here. So.” 

“Your siblings.” Aang repeats, ever too perceptive for his own good, and Zuko is suddenly deeply thankful Katara is fast asleep still. “She killed you-” 

“Ozai is not a kind man.” Zuko interrupts again. “I wish you didn’t have to learn this now, but some people-” _red, gold, cold stone beneath him, fire above-_ “Some people should never be parents.” 

“Zuko.” Aang’s eyes are dark, unreadable. “Did he-” small fingers ghost over his scar, and Zuko wills himself not to jump back, but his involuntary flinch is apparently enough of an answer for Aang, who pulls back his hand as though it burns. 

“Oh.” Aang says, choked. 

“He’s not a kind man.” Zuko repeats. “Aang, when the time comes- we have to take him out. He can’t- he can’t keep hurting people.” 

“Take him out.” Aang says dumbly, and his hands fall to his sides. “Oh.” 

According to the Fire Nation, the Air Nomads had a highly-trained army, could bend the air right out of someone’s lungs. 

According to the skeletons in the back rooms of the Southern Air Temple, the Air Nomads practiced non-violence up until their flesh was melted from their bones. 

Zuko can’t stop himself from slinging an arm around Aang’s shaking shoulders, pulling him closer even as his chest screams protests. “I’m sorry, Aang.” 

“Me too,” Aang says, and then he straightens up, though he doesn’t throw off Zuko’s arm. “But it doesn’t matter. I failed the world at Ba Sing Se. It can't happen again." 

* * *

Hakoda stands silently as his kids finish loading supplies onto the saddle. Zuko, who Katara sternly told to _stay still, Tui, Zuko, you don’t have to be moving every second of every day_ , is standing next to him. If Hakoda doesn’t look so hard at the red fractal scarring that peeks out from under his tunic, the way his face seems to lose color far easier than it retains it, Zuko could almost pass for healthy. 

“Tulok, I _really_ don’t think we need ten pounds of seal jerky.” Sokka says, jumping down from Appa’s back.

Tulok gasps, affronted. 

“Have you forgotten your roots so quickly, boy?” He demands. “What are you eating for meat, then?” 

“We eat vegetarian a lot, actually.” Zuko says, and Tulok’s eyes go comically wide. 

“Vege- what the _fuck_ is vegetarian?” 

“Aang doesn’t eat meat, so we make most meals without it!” Katara says cheerfully. 

“You wound me, cuz.” Tulok claps a hand over his chest, and staggers back as though he’s been stabbed. Katara giggles and shoves him all the way over, and Tulok lays eagle-spread on the deck, feigning despair, until Bato kicks him lightly in the side to get him back up. Hakoda has to turn away for a moment. 

Tulok hasn’t laughed in weeks. 

Katara’s laugh grows closer to Kya’s every day. 

“Okay, I think we’re ready to go?” Sokka says, and next to him, Zuko stills. 

“Great! Help me on!” Toph- who’s terrifying, by the way, though Hakoda will never admit it out loud- holds out a hand, and Sokka rolls his eyes before taking her hand. 

“I thought you could metal-bend now, Toph.” 

“I’m still working on the metal- _seeing_ part, Snoozles. Why don’t _you_ invent a new kind of bending and then we can-” 

“Technically, I invented a new kind of bending!” the Avatar pipes up, a gust of wind settling him on the bison’s head. 

“So did I!” Sokka says. “Bo-” 

“If you say boomerang-bending, so help me Shu, Sokka, I will throw you out of this saddle over the ocean-” 

“Zuko.” Hakoda turns, when he realizes the boy hasn’t moved from his side. “Are you alright?” 

Zuko shakes his head and resolutely doesn’t make eye contact. 

“Zuko, talk-” 

He’s cut off by Zuko throwing himself at him, burying his head in his chest. Hakoda immediately pulls him closer and realizes with a jolt that he’s grown at least three inches since he last saw him. Sokka attaches himself on without too much effort on his left, Katara on his right, and Hakoda tries to push the thought out of his mind that this could be the last time they’re all together. 

“Watch each other’s backs.” He says, and Katara holds on tighter. “Be safe, keep each other safe, keep the younger kids safe. I love you so much.” 

“Love you too, Dad.” Sokka says, and when he disengages, his eyes are shiny, but his jaw is set. “We’ll meet you at the islands in a few weeks. You have that list of contacts I gave you?” Hakoda nods, and Sokka and Katara go to hug Bato one more time. Zuko lingers for a second. 

“I-” He starts and then cuts off. “I... Someone told me- when the war is over- that I could help bring about peace.” 

Hakoda is quiet for a moment, before he moves to straighten out one of Zuko’s beads- a deep, wine-dark blue, almost maroon. “You certainly could.” 

“You wouldn’t- you wouldn’t hate me?” Zuko asks, and his voice shakes. “If I was Fire Nation? If I tried to end the war?” 

“Zuko,” Hakoda says. “how could I ever hate you? Son, if you ended the war and brought about peace- no matter what insignia you are bearing when you do it- I would be the proudest father alive.” 

Hakoda is rewarded for this speech with another quick, tight hug, and Zuko’s shoulders shake for just a second, before he lets go and immediately flees to hug Bato, and then climbs onto the bison’s back. 

“Bye!” The Avatar yells. “Thank you so much for everything! We’ll see you guys soon!” 

The bison takes off into the cloudless blue sky, and Bato comes to stand next to him, gripping his shoulder.

“It’ll be alright, Koda.” he murmurs. Hakoda puts his hand on top of Bato’s, and turns to give him a thin smile. 

“We’ll make sure it is.” He says. 

* * *

“We do need to change clothes,” Sokka admits after they’ve landed on the outskirts of a small island, and Katara and Aang, having already discerned this, come back to camp with armfuls of red clothing with dubious origins. “We stick out way too much like this.” 

“I already called the black suit, so no one take it!" Aang yells over. 

Zuko knows that they’re right- Sokka and Katara will already be considered suspect because of their light eyes and dark skin; they can’t afford to call anymore attention to themselves through their clothes. But it feels _wrong,_ so wrong, to shed his blue tunic and well-worn boots, to shrug on the red robes Sokka hands to him, even while his fingers remember the proper way to knot the sash. 

“You guys should probably take out your beads,” Katara says, and Zuko’s hand flies up to his hair. 

“Oh.” he says. “I guess, yeah. They don’t wear braids here, either.” 

Katara gives him a thin smile, and helps him unwind the beads from his hair. Zuko takes his hair ribbon and slides the beads through, knotting it around his ankle to keep track of it, and stops when he sees Sokka gather his wolf’s tail into a top-knot. 

Top-knots were a symbol of honor, pride; Zuko had never, ever, been allowed to wear one, his father constantly citing his inability to keep up with his lessons, his disrespectful demeanor. But Sokka is sliding a pin around his nonchalantly, like it doesn’t matter at all. 

Maybe it doesn’t. 

He’s seen it done enough times that it’s terribly easy to gather the top half of his hair into a bun and wrap the red ribbon Katara hands him around it. 

“How do I look?” Sokka asks, flexing his arm. 

“Terrible,” Toph supplies.

Sokka scowls at her before a look of realization dawns across his face. 

_“Hey!”_ He yells, and Toph cackles. 

Zuko tunes out their bickering and goes to kneel by the water to see if his top-knot is straight. The reflection that peers back is almost not his own. Dark, long hair, straight jaw, golden eyes. If it wasn’t for the burn that dug craters into the right side of his face, Zuko would almost look like-

“You alright, Zuko?” Aang asks, tying a headband around his forehead to cover the tip of his arrow. 

“Fine.” Zuko smiles thinly, and looks away. “Let’s just try and lay low, yeah?” 

* * *

Having a dance party in a cave is not Zuko’s idea of laying low, and judging by Sokka’s permanently narrowed eyes, he doesn’t quite think so, either. 

But Aang has an actual smile on his face for the first time in ages, and Toph is even bobbing her head as she sits on a rock, and Katara looks so carefree like this, swinging around in Aang’s arms. Aang dips her low, and Katara blushes. 

“Oh, _gross._ ” Sokka makes a gagging sound, and Zuko elbows him. 

“Are you gonna tell me you didn’t see that coming?” He asks.

“Oh no, I saw it coming.” Sokka groans. “But like, in the same way you’d see the monorail coming while you’re strapped to the tracks. No way out, and you just have to wait for it to run you over.” 

Zuko turns and stares at his brother. “Should I be concerned-?” 

“Recurring nightmare.” Sokka waves him off. “Eugh, if they _kiss,_ I’m gonna have to break up this party myself.”

* * *

Turns out, Sokka doesn’t have to worry about that. Even as they make a quick escape on Appa’s back, Aang is still grinning, and he blushes even deeper when Katara leans over and plants a kiss on his cheek. 

“I’m gonna go throw up now.” Sokka announces, and is met with a wave of water to his face. 

“Don’t act like you’d be any different if Suki was here.” Zuko says.

Katara shoots him a grateful look. 

That, apparently, is the wrong thing to say. Sokka immediately turns away, and when Zuko turns to look at Aang and Katara, they shrug, confused. Zuko climbs to the back of the saddle. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks.

Sokka stares out at the lands passing beneath them. “When you guys were in the catacombs,” He says quietly. “Toph and I went to the throne room. There were these two girls there who were with Azula. Kuei told us they’d gotten in dressed as Kyoshi warriors.” 

“But how could-”

“I don’t know. I mean, Suki was fine last time I saw her, but…” 

“If Azula got a hold of them.” Zuko slumps down and scrubs at his face. “Agni. I’m sorry, Sokka.”

“It’s not _your_ fault, Zuko.” Sokka says. 

“She’s my sister.”

“Yeah, she’s kind of insane.” 

“A little.” Zuko admits, even as a pang of guilt rises in his chest. “Listen. Iroh is somewhere in the Fire Nation- maybe- and if he’s being held, then maybe Suki is, too. Maybe we can find them.”

“Yeah,” Sokka says, though he doesn’t sound convinced. “Maybe.” 

* * *

“This is Fire Nation?” Toph asked, plugging her nose with one hand as Zuko helps her off the small dinghy with the other. “It smells like rotten fish!” 

Inwardly, Zuko has to agree. The town Sokka’s designated as the refuel spot is barely anything more than a floating trash barge. 

“Hey-” Aang says distractedly, stopping in front of a bulletin board right next to the docks. “This is weird.” 

“If it’s another wanted poster of you, leave it, you already have a collection and there’s no point in-” 

“No!” Aang interrupts, and grabs Zuko’s arm, dragging him over to the board. “Look!’

A poster has been pinned in front of the normal ones, and is clearly hand-painted. A simple portrait of a young man is painted at the top, and below it reads: 

_My name is Tadashi._

_I was conscripted into the 41st division._

_I was 16 years old when I was cut down at the battle of Omashu by order of Fire Lord Ozai._

_No land was gained._

_No advancement made._

_I am one of thousands._

_How many more sons will Ozai kill?_

There’s no signature beneath, but a small jasmine flower is painted in the corner. 

Zuko stares at it, something like anticipation settling heavy in his stomach. 

“Isn’t that weird?” Aang says, hushed. “I’ve never seen anything like it before in a Fire Nation town.” 

A soldier stationed at the end of the dock is eyeing them warily. Zuko takes Aang’s shoulder and steers him back towards the rest of the group, who are haggling over fish in the small marketplace. 

Katara is stooped down a few feet away, and Zuko cranes his head to see what she’s looking at. it’s a child, probably no older than Panuk or Aake. But this child doesn’t have Aake’s flushed cheek, Panuk’s baby fat. She’s emaciated, and the brittle, thin hair that hangs in front of her face is hopelessly knotted up. Katara gives her a small pack of nuts out of her pack, and immediately takes one of the fish Sokka’s just bargained for to give to her as well. 

The child’s eyes widen, and she gives Katara a deep sign of the flame, before she scampers around the corner. 

“No point in feeding the street urchins.” The merchant grunts, counting out Sokka’s coins.

Katara whirls around on her heels, eyes narrowed. “What?” She demands.

“No point.” The merchant repeats, unbothered. “They’ll go hungry tomorrow, anyways. Takes food out of your own mouth.” 

“Why are there children starving here in the first place?” Aang asks quietly, and Zuko nods in agreement. 

When they were in the Earth Kingdom, it had been so easy to see what the Fire Nation had destroyed- towns wiped off the map with black scorch marks. Children with burns around their arms, their legs, even their faces, like Zuko. Families missing any men older than fifteen, mothers struggling to protect and feed who remained.

  
He hadn’t expected to see the same devastation within the Fire Nation. 

The merchant snorts and gestures up the river to the metal monstrosity built into the mountain. “They built the factory there a couple years ago. Pollutes the river. No food supply, no economy. No economy, folks get desperate.” He turns to Katara. “Street urchins.”

He swings the wooden doors of his stand closed with a final snap, and Katara steps back, obviously incensed. 

“This is horrible!” She fumes. “We have to-” 

Sokka claps a hand over her mouth and his eyes flit up to the street corner, where a couple more Fire Nation guards are stationed. 

“Let’s talk about this on the road.” He says, and doesn’t loosen his hand till Katara nods. 

* * *

Zuko stokes the fire as Katara finishes the stew. 

“We need to help.” She says quietly. 

“We’ll be helping by ending the war.” Sokka says. “We need to move on, Katara.” 

“But they’re starving!” Katara says. “And that horrible factory is causing all of it!” 

“She’s right.” Zuko says, even surprising himself. “They need help.” 

“What could we possibly do?” Sokka throws his hands up. “We can’t go back in time and stop the Fire Nation from being horrible to its own citizens! We have to stick to-“ 

“-the schedule, I know.” Katara finished irritably. “Fine. We can leave in the morning.” 

Katara seems to have acquiesced to Sokka’s demands- oddly quickly- but something’s off about this place. 

And Zuko’s going to figure out what it is. 

* * *

The camp is silent when Zuko carefully gets up from his sleeping bag. The fire is almost completely out, Yue high in the dark sky. Sokka is snoring, and Katara’s pulled an extra blanket over her head to block it out. Aang is asleep against Appa’s back, and Toph’s feet are sticking out from her earth tent. None of them stir when Zuko creeps out of the camp and towards the dock. 

He doesn’t remember much about his lessons at the palace. He’d never been allowed to go to school like Azula was; he would embarrass the family. Azula never did. Zuko remembers being half-convinced Azula couldn’t make mistakes, and that maybe he was just doomed to always incur the wrath of his father over mistaken dates in his history lessons. 

Zuko glances out the side of the small dinghy he’s temporarily borrowed and sees the green sludge settled across the top of the water, and wonders if, perhaps, his mistakes were not the most pertinent ones in his history lessons. 

_The Fire Nation is the greatest civilization in history._

Zuko pulls up to the far end of the decrepit docks and creeps out, careful to stay in the shadows while he ties the dinghy up. 

A couple of kids are huddled together against the side of a building. Their clothes are threadbare, their faces gaunt. One of them is a firebender; they keep a small fire going, one hand stoking the flames, the other smoothing back the thin hair of a smaller child in their lap. 

_Other countries, without centralized power, leave their citizens on the periphery to starve._

Zuko pulls his hood higher as he walks over and places the last couple of apples and jerky he’d swiped from Sokka’s pack in front of them. The firebender’s eyes are narrowed, but Zuko keeps his hands up and backs away before the kid makes a move. 

_That’s why your Great-grandfather Sozin started his holy conquest- to bring the greatness of the Fire Nation to the savages across the world._

The kids tear into the food the minute Zuko is out of their line of sight. 

Something hot and angry is stirring in his chest as Zuko ducks around a corner. It is so _obvious_ the destruction this war has wrought on its own people. Why is the Fire Nation so hell-bent on perpetuating a pointless conflict? 

A small building on the edge of town is lit-up, even while the rest of the houses are dark, and Zuko ducks through the low doorway.

The tender behind the bar raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment as Zuko sits at the counter. It’s quiet; a few men and women are drinking at tables behind him, with rarely a word passing between them. A small statue of the town patron, the Painted Lady, stands in the corner. 

“What do you want, kid?” The bartender says gruffly. 

“Whatever you got.” Zuko shrugs.

She raises an eyebrow again, and fills a glass of water, throwing it down the counter at him. “You came in with those other kids, didn’t you?” 

“We’re just passing through. “ Zuko says noncommittally. “Needed supplies.” 

“And you stopped _here_ to get’em?” The bartender snorts. “Kid, everyone knows this place is a write-off. Might as well go eight klicks east to Nikki and get your supplies there.” 

“Didn’t have the time.” Zuko says, and puts the glass down. “What happened here, anyways?” 

“The war happened.” The bartender says, and it might be Zuko’s imagination, but she straightens up, quiets down, when she says it. “The war effort meant more production. Meant the factory. Every citizen has to do their part.” 

Zuko narrows his eyes. This is why he had such an uneasy feeling around this place. “But it’s destroyed your-” 

“Have you heard the tale of the son of the Jasmine Farmer?” the bartender asks. Her hands are tight around her rag. 

“What?” Zuko blinks. 

“The tale of the Jasmine Farmer.” The bartender repeats, and she stares steadily at him. 

“Uh.” 

“It’s a well-known tale.” She says. “There was a jasmine farm at the edge of an archipelago, passed down from father to son. The farm had known fair weather and terrible storms, good farmers and bad, but it always grew plentiful crops, no matter what.” 

“I don’t know-” 

“When the farmer was on his death-bed, he called his son to him,” The bartender blazes on, as though she can’t hear him. “And he told him that the reason their crops always yielded abundance was that a benevolent spirit guarded the farm.” 

‘How can this be?’ The son asked. ‘I have not seen nor felt any spirit protecting me.’ 

‘The spirit does not protect _you_.’ The father refuted. ‘The spirit protects the farm and its inhabitants. Do not harm the farm, nor its inhabitants, and the spirit will persist in its blessing. But harm this land, or one person on it, and the blessing will break and turn. Promise that you will abide by these rules.’ 

‘I promise,’ The son said, and the father passed away. 

Years passed, and the son grew and had a child himself, and the son grew careless in minding his father’s rules, even becoming cruel at times. His son, just a child, witnessed his father’s callousness and spoke out against it. The father grew enraged with his son and killed him for his disrespect. The spirit, witnessing this act, broke the blessing that guarded the farm."

The bartender finishes wiping down the counter, and turns to look at him. 

“What happened next?” Zuko asks, and the bartender shrugs, a wry half-smile forming on her face. 

“Don’t know,” she shrugs. “We’re still living in it.” 

Zuko stares at her. Before he can open his mouth, the woman places a small Pai Sho piece down in front of him. A wooden jasmine piece, cracked in the middle. 

“Come by the bar tomorrow night,” the bartender says. “If you want to learn what happens to the farm.” 

* * *

The small Pai Sho piece seems to burn a hole through his pocket as he docks the dinghy and climbs out to start the short walk towards camp.

Everything about the woman screamed that she wouldn’t exactly be first in line to lay down her life for the Dragon Throne. That doesn’t necessarily mean she isn’t dangerous, but isn’t the enemy of his enemy his friend? 

A stick cracks to his right, and Zuko whirls around, fire alight on his hand. 

“Who’s there?” he demands. 

_“Zuko?”_

There’s some rustling, and Katara emerges from behind some bushes. Red paint is marked in careful strokes on her face, and she’s wearing a flowing white fabric tied off with rope. It looks familiar, and Zuko spends a second trying to place it before- 

  
“Are you _pretending_ to be the Painted Lady?” He hisses, stepping forward. “Katara, that’s so dangerous!” 

Katara shushes him and throws a panicked glance towards the camp, but no one makes a sound. “I just-” She groans. “I need to help, but I can’t exactly waterbend without getting in trouble, and this seemed like the easiest solution, so- wait.” Her eyes narrow, and she jabs a finger in his chest. “Where are _you_ coming from?” 

“Uh,” Zuko closes his fingers around the Pai Sho piece in his palm. 

“You went out to look around, didn’t you?” Katara accuses. 

“Maybe.” 

“I can’t believe you’re yelling at _me_ about ‘dangerous’ when you’re-” 

“I didn’t _waterbend_ in a Fire Nation town-” 

“ _You’re literally their prince, you dumbass!_ ” 

“Okay, okay.” Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, let’s just- are you gonna be stupid?” 

Katara crosses her arms. “Are _you_?” 

“Not on purpose!” 

“Fine.” Katara says, offering him her forearm. “I won’t tell Sokka if you don’t tell Sokka.” 

“Definitely let’s not tell Sokka.” Zuko agrees, and clasps her forearm in promise. “He’d _kill_ us.” 

* * *

  
  


“I think Appa’s sick!” Aang announces after breakfast the next morning. “His tongue’s a weird purple color!” 

“Oh, no!” Katara says, eyes wide and concerned. “We better go see if we can get medicine in town for him.” 

“We have a lot of ground to cover,” Sokka objects. 

“Appa can’t fly when he’s sick.” Aang says crossly. “He gets sick days _and_ vacation days, Sokka.” 

“Yeah, Sokka, you’ve been working us too hard, anyways! Appa needs medicine!” Katara says. 

“Fine.” Sokka relents. “Let’s go see if they have any. But we’re leaving _tomorrow._ ” 

Zuko catches Katara’s eye and raises his eyebrow, and she flushes before she turns away. 

* * *

Katara is already gone when Zuko quietly gets up that night. Her sleeping bag is suspiciously lumpy, when Zuko takes a closer look at it, and some of Appa’s straw is missing. He rolls his eyes, but pulls his hood up and creeps quietly towards the dock. 

The bar is as quiet as it was the night before, and when Zuko approaches the bartender- a man this time, with a large scar through one eyebrow- he flashes the Pai Sho piece in his palm. The man glances at it before he jerks with his head towards the back, and Zuko follows him. The man silently leads him to a supply closet. He moves a shelf in the back, and knocks three times at the door behind it. The door opens, and the man gestures Zuko through, before leaving to go back to the bar. 

The room is small and cramped, with a table shoved to the side overflowing with maps and documents, and far too many people in it. The bartender from yesterday stands in front of Zuko, arms crossed. 

“So, you showed.” She says, eyebrows raised. “Didn’t think you would.” 

Zuko meets her gaze, even when it begins to flit to his scar. “What’s happening here is _wrong._ And I think you think so, too.” 

“Perhaps.” The woman agrees. “If we are to trust each other, we need to exchange names. I am Teruko.” 

Zuko weighs and measures his choices. He’s not a great firebender, only _maybe_ a passable one, but he’s gotten out of worse situations than this, if it does go wrong. 

“Zuko.” He says. Teruko’s eyes widen, and now she’s staring unabashedly at his scar. 

“Is that your full name?” She asks, and Zuko can feel his palms heating up. 

“I-” 

“We’d heard stories.” Teruko says, and one of the men comes to stand behind her. “We couldn’t believe they were true.” 

“Stories?” Zuko manages to croak out. 

“That you had returned.” Teruko says, and her eyes avert to the ground. “Crown Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation.” 

She bows deep, forehead to the floor, and every other person in the room immediately follows suit. Zuko stares at their backs, feeling deeply uncomfortable. 

“Please,” he begs. “Please, rise.” 

Teruko does first. “It’s true, then?” She asks, and her voice is oddly cold. “Your father killed you, but you returned somehow?” 

It’s shocking, how blunt she says it.

“Yes,” Zuko says, and murmurs go throughout the small room. “I can’t really explain how.” 

“The White Lotus informed us that you were traveling with the Avatar.” Teruko says. 

“The White Lotus-?” 

“Yes, yes, your uncle-” 

“My _uncle_?” Zuko repeats, and oh damn it all to Koh, he’s dumb, isn’t he? Iroh had practically screamed that he was working with a rebellion of some sort, and that spirits-damned white lotus Pai Sho piece- 

“You’re a rebellion.” He says, and feels stupid when the man next to Teruko laughs. 

“Well, yes, but we don’t generally call ourselves that.” 

“I thought-” Zuko stares at the faces staring back at him. “I thought the Fire Nation didn’t have any rebellions-” 

“Oh, kid.” Teruko says, and grins, gesturing at the table behind him. “We’re not even the only group in this _area._ Though-” She frowns, turning towards the man. “-we lost contact with Chan in Gaoling, didn’t we?” 

“You have groups in the _Earth Kingdom_?” 

“Freedom doesn’t belong to any nation.” Teruko crosses her arms. “And it’s every nation’s responsibility to fight for it.” 

But-” Zuko stares at them. “How is it possible- how have they not tracked you down?” 

“They have.” Teruko says shortly. “About half of our members have already been carted off to that work camp up near the Caldera.” She looks back up at him. “We’re aware of the cost, Prince Zuko. We’ve been marked for years. Might as well do everything we can before our time is up.” 

The use of his long-dusty title does not get past Zuko, who looks over the cramped room with a growing fear gnawing in his stomach, but something like determination in his head. 

“Okay.” He says. “Okay. How can I help?” 

Teruko grins sharply at him. 

“You know that factory down the river?” 

* * *

The plan is simple in its complexity. 

The factory, which produces the sheet metal then used to make everything from ships to weapons, is polluting the river. They’ve been walking a tight line between sabotaging the factory enough to make the products unusable and making the authorities suspicious enough to punish the entire town. 

Teruko also explains that the man who is constantly at her right, who gruffly introduces himself as Katsuo, has been working at the factory for a little over six months, and has managed to identify a gap in the patrols, a few hours after midnight. If they can get in and mess with enough of the machines in subtle ways- remove some bolts, deaden some fires, make sure enough paperwork goes missing- the plant will have to shut down for at least a few weeks, and they can make their next move. 

“And what’s the next move?” Zuko asks suspiciously, and Teruko shrugs with one shoulder. 

“No one should know everything about everything.” She says, and the look on her face is hard enough that Zuko decides not to question her further. She tells him to meet them about a mile outside the plant in the dead of night, the following night. 

* * *

“Last chance to back out, take the Avatar, and run. We might get caught. “ Teruko says, crossing her arms. Yue is new tonight; Zuko can barely make Teruko out without Her light, and it takes Zuko a minute to realize he could just, you know, _firebend_ to make light. “This isn’t something we can guarantee we’ll come back from. Maybe you should sit this out.” 

“I’m a little new at this Prince thing,” Zuko says. “But don’t I, like, technically outrank you?” 

Teruko’s eyebrows shoot into her bangs, and she lets out a surprised laugh. “Technically, yes.” She admits. 

“Then you can’t really tell me no.” 

“Technically.” Teruko says. “But I have to _strongly_ advise that you-” 

“Do you know many people I’ve seen here, starving? Kids, mostly?” Zuko interrupts. Did you know, I spent the past four years in the Southern Water Tribe? They really don’t have much of anything. We’ve completely decimated them. And yet, no one goes hungry. Every single member of the tribe is taken care of. How can we possibly claim to be the greatest nation in the world when our own people are starving?” 

“We can’t.” Teruko agrees. 

“So, then, I have to do something about it.” Zuko says. “You can’t stop me.” 

“Prince Zuko,” Teruko tilts her chin up. “I wouldn’t want to.” 

She places a fist at the heel of her hand, and bows, and Zuko can’t stop the grin that takes over his face when he bows back. 

“Let’s go then,” Teruko says, and nods towards the dark factory, looming in the distance. 

But before Zuko can take a single step forward, the ground shakes, there’s a distant boom, and fire explodes out the front of the factory, blowing debris in the river below. Teruko straightens up and glances at Katsuo, who’s gone very pale. 

“You didn’t-” Teruko starts. 

“No.” Katsuo croaks out. “No, I wouldn’t be _this_ stupid.” 

“Then who-” 

The ripples over the water seem a little too consistent to be natural, and when Zuko steps out onto the bank, he sees two dark figures gliding quickly over the water. He can’t stop himself from letting out a string of filthy swears that would definitely get him smacked if Kanna was here. 

He lights his hand and holds it up to his face as the dark figures approach the bank, and by the time the Painted Lady and Kuzon the Definitely Very Normal Fire Nation Colonist Child step onto the riverbank, they at least have the conscience to look vaguely sheepish. 

“The Painted Lady-?” Teruko asks in a hushed tone, and Katara’s eyes widen. 

“Not quite.” Zuko says shortly, and gestures at his sister, who’s expression has already molded into sheer defiance by the time she rips off the gauze around her face. 

”You- you’re a _child_. You’re both kids.” Katsuo says. “Did you- did you two just blow up that factory?” 

An alarm begins to sound by the blown-out factory, and Teruko swears and gestures for them to stand closer to the cliff-side. 

“It was polluting the river.” Katara says. “I had to _help_ -” 

“They’re gonna rain hellfire down on us.” Katsuo says distantly. “There’s no way they’ll just-” 

“Katsuo, _breathe,_ ” Teruko says firmly, wrapping a tight hand around his arm. “You all need to go.” 

“But-” Zuko starts, but Teruko shakes her head. 

“Prince Zuko.” She says, harsh. “You can do much more from the Dragon Throne. To go down now, for _this_ \- It’s selfish. _Go!_ ” 

Zuko stares at her, until Katara grabs his arm and begins pulling him away. He keeps staring as Teruko and Katsuo sit down side by side on the cliff, and watch the factory burn. 

* * *

Toph and Sokka are awake when they get back to camp, and Sokka looks three seconds away from pulling his hair out by the root. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” He shouts, boomerang in hand. “I wake up to an _explosion,_ and you’re _all_ just gone? You have three second to explain before I start smashing heads-” 

“Katara and Aang blew up the factory.” Zuko says dully, wrenching his arm out of Katara’s grip and going to pack up his sleeping bag. “We need to go before they send more authorities to investigate.” 

“You did _what_?” Toph crows. _“_ _ _He_ ll _ yeah, Sugar Queen! Rock on!” 

“Zuko joined a rebellion!” Katara yells. “And I was _just_ trying to help- they’re starving, Zuko-” 

“You think I didn’t see that?” Zuko demands, whirling around. “Katara, I fucking _saw._ Do you even know what they’re gonna do to this place? To anyone they think is responsible?” 

Katara’s gone slightly pale, and Sokka steps between them, jaw set. 

“We have to go.” Sokka says. “We can’t let them get Aang or Zuko.” 

“No.” Katara says resolute, though her eyes are shiny. “I’m not leaving them.”

“There’s nothing we can do.” Zuko says, and tries to soften his tone. “Other than end the war.” 

“Maybe there is?” Aang steps forward, even though Sokka turns on him next. 

“Oh, don’t think you’re getting out of this just because you’re the “Avatar” or whatever,” Sokka says. “What you did was so dangerous and stupid and completely-” 

“Listen to me!” Aang pulls off his headband, running his hands over the short black hair that covers his tattoos. “Listen, I know, we didn’t think, but maybe we can still stop them from destroying the town?” 

“How?” Zuko says. “We fucked up, but if we get caught, we definitely can’t do anything to help these people.” 

“Sparky’s right.” Toph says. “We should just go.” 

“No, listen. What’s the one thing everyone in this town people would actually fear if it turned against them?” 

“I don’t know?” Sokka throws his hands up. “You?” 

  
Aang makes an affronted noise. “I don’t want people to be afraid of me!” He says indignantly, then shakes his head. “But no, no- who do they all _actually_ respect? Like, who would they listen to?” Katara stares at her hands, where red paint is smeared from her face. “The Painted Lady.” She says quietly, and Aang beams at her. 

“Whaddaya say we give the town a little spirit action, chalk the explosion up to some divine retribution?” 

“I’d say that’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.” Sokka crosses his arms. “Everyone on the bison, let’s go, chop-chop, little terrorists, we have a schedule to-” 

“Let’s do it.” Zuko interrupts his brother. “I think we have to at least try.” 

Katara lifts her head, and gives him a little grin. “Let’s at least try.” She agrees, and puts her hat back on. “I’m feeling spirit-y tonight. Toph, can you supply some ground-shaking terror?” 

Toph leaps up, cracking her knuckles. “That’s the greatest thing you’ve ever said to me!” She cries. “Let’s _go_!” 

* * *

“I hate that that worked.” Sokka slumps down, hands over his eyes as they speed away from the clean river and non-destroyed town. “Please don’t ever blow up a factory ever again.” 

“No promises.” Katara says cheerfully from Appa’s head, and Sokka just groans harder. 

* * *

Sokka’s bad mood hasn’t dissipated by the time they land in their next stop, the last before they head to the islands that Sokka’s designated as the meet-up space before the invasion. He doesn’t perk up, not even when Zuko suggests heading into town for dinner instead of cooking. 

“Is he...not eating?” Zuko half-stage whispers, glancing at Sokka’s hunched over back. 

“Snoozles isn’t eating?” Toph demands. “Not even the meat? Oh, spirits. The world must be ending.” 

“I can hear you guys!” Sokka grumbles, turning around. 

“We weren’t trying to be quiet!” Toph shoots back. “Either tell us what’s wrong or shut up!” 

Sokka scowls and turns back, and Aang kicks Toph’s ankle before calling, 

“Sokka, is something wrong?” 

“It’s fine.” Sokka says, and Katara raises her eyebrow at Zuko, who shrugs. He can’t think of anything that might have upset Sokka lately. 

“Sokka?” Katara asks. “What’s wrong?” 

“It’s just hard, sometimes.” Sokka mumbles, and Katara shoots out of her chair at the same time Zuko immediately stands up, and they sit on either side of their brother. 

“What’s hard?” Zuko asks. 

Sokka won’t even meet his eyes, and that’s enough to make Zuko think of those terrible weeks after Yue’s sacrifice, when Sokka talked little and slept less. “You’re all incredible benders, and that’s great, it’s so cool to see you guys develop your gifts, but-” Sokka makes a noise of frustration. “I don’t have anything like that. I can’t- I can’t protect you. I’m _useless._ ”

It’s silent for a second, while Katara shoots a panicked glance at Aang, who looks just as bewildered. 

“Sokka.” Katara says firmly. “You’re the farthest thing from useless.”

“Pretty sure we’d all be dead by now if it wasn’t for you.” Zuko says, and nudges his shoulder against Sokka. 

“Honestly.” Toph pipes up. “You’re the only one here with half a brain cell.” 

“Hey!” Aang says indignantly, and there’s a _plick_ and a gasp of pain, like Toph’s just thrown a pebble against Aang’s arrow. 

Sokka shrugs one shoulder. “I guess. I just don’t really see how I’m contributing, right now. Dead weight.”

“I’m really sorry you’re feeling that way,” Katara says. “But I hope you know that none of us see you that way. Hey, I know what will make you feel better!” 

“What?” Sokka groans. 

“Shopping!” 

* * *

  
The shopping trip works well enough, but the advice of the shopkeeper to go see the word-master who has an estate at the edge of the town for training works even better. 

“Are we sure we should just let him go see a random Fire Nation guy for training? What if he gets caught?” Katara asks, wrapping her arms around her stomach as they eye Sokka’s retreating figure. 

Zuko snorts. “The last time you were loose in a Fire Nation town without supervision you blew up a factory.” 

“You joined a rebellion-” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re both idiots, we get it.” Toph groans. “Spirits. It’s gonna be so boring around here until he gets back.” 

* * *

  
  


Toph is about as good at predicting the future as Aunt Wu. 

They spend the next few days in various stages of boredom and heat stroke, until Toph sits straight up one day and yells, “Sokka’s coming!” 

“Hi!” Sokka says brightly as he walks into camp. “I need help wi- _ugh-”_ The wind is knocked out of him as the younger kids go flying towards him, wrapping their arms around him. Zuko snorts at Sokka’s half-annoyed, half-pleased expression. 

“I need _help_ ,” He complains, as Aang makes kissy faces at him, squishing his cheeks together. “not _hugs.”_

“Sshh.” Toph shoves a finger over his mouth. “No talking.” 

Sokka makes desperate eye contact with Zuko, who shrugs at him, smirking, until the kids finally show mercy and let go.  
  
“How’s training?” Katara asks. Sokka grins. 

“Great! Master Piandao says I’m doing really well- I’m actually about to forge my own sword, and I need some help moving that meteor.” He turns to Toph. “Wanna bend a really big rock?” 

“Snoozles,” Toph sighs. “I would like nothing better.” 

* * *

The estate is at the top of a hill, and Toph and Aang are able to subtly bend the rock while Zuko, Katara, and Sokka pretend like they’re pushing it, until they reach the front door. 

Zuko stares at the lotus design carved into the wood, a niggling feeling in the back of his head. There’s no way- “Hey, Sokka?” He asks slowly, running his fingers over the carving. “What did you say this guy’s name was?” 

  
The door swings open, and a tall, familiar man with tan skin, and lines by his eyes that used to wrinkle whenever he laughed at Lu Ten’s antics, wide hands that used to correct Zuko’s stance without hitting or burning or pinching, not once, dark eyes that widen, staring at him- 

“Zuko,” Master Piandao croaks out, “They told me- I didn’t dare think it true-” 

Zuko swallows the lump that’s already taken up half his throat when Piandao takes a step forward and wraps his arms around his shoulders. 

“Hi, Master Piandao,” Zuko manages to get out. 

* * *

Piandao’s estate is almost exactly how Zuko remembers it- immaculately kept gardens, massive windows, sunlight spilling across the floors, the hall of students- 

It takes Zuko about ten seconds to find what he’s looking for. 

Lu Ten, eyes crinkling in amusement, though he wasn’t allowed to smile for the portrait, stares at him, perpetually frozen as a teenager. Zuko remembers sitting a few feet away, legs swinging, chattering to his cousin, as the portrait was done. 

“It is one of my greatest regrets that I didn’t have one done for you.” Piandao says quietly, and Zuko shakes his head, fingers grazing the parchment. 

“I wasn’t really one of your students.” Zuko says. 

“Didn't seem to matter so much, after the-” Piandao glances at Katara, Aang, and Toph, who are trailing them with wide eyes, unabashedly listening to their conversation. Sokka had been dragged away by Fat to the workshop to forge his sword, with Piandao promising to meet them soon.

Zuko shrugs. “They know.” He says simply, unable to look away from the picture. “I, uh, woke up in the Southern Water Tribe.” 

“I was told. I just didn’t know how much to believe- even after many others told me, too.” Piandao says. “You’ve been on quite the reckless adventure, young man.” 

“Wait, wait-” Toph interrupts. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused. Isn’t he Fire Nation?” 

“I am.” There’s a note of amusement in Piandao’s voice. “But the way of the sword does not belong to any one nation.” 

“Neither does Pai Sho, apparently,” Zuko turns to him, one eyebrow raised, and Piandao chuckles. 

“I see your uncle finally got to you.” He says, and slips a small white lotus tile out from his pocket, flipping it between his fingers. 

“He did get to me.” Zuko admits, the guilt heavy in his throat. “But he’s gone. I-I let him get captured-”

“That wasn’t your fault, Zuko,” Katara says firmly. 

“If anything, it’s _my_ fault,” Aang butts in, and Zuko looks up sharply 

“It is _not_ your fault, Aang, you were unconscious. If it’s anyone’s fault that Iroh’s gone and probably dead, it’s me-” 

“Prince Zuko.” Piandao interrupts sharply, and _spirits,_ Zuko is never going to get used to that stupid fucking title. “Your uncle is not dead.” 

The room goes silent, and Zuko turns to look at his old master. “He- he’s not? But I saw him get captured-” 

Piandao snorts. “You think something as trivial as getting arrested for treason would take down the Dragon of the West? No, no, Iroh is very much alive.” A ghost of irritation passes over Piandao’s face. “How that man manages to send enough messages to annoy me from a _prison_ cell is beyond me-” 

“Uncle’s in prison?” Toph asks. She steps forward and subtly wraps her hand tight around Zuko’s fingers, squeezing tightly enough that Zuko feels less like he’s floating above the room. “Where?” 

“The Caldera,” Piandao shakes his head. “A prison a few klicks from the palace, used mostly for political prisoners. It’s practically impenetrable.” 

Toph squeezes, once, twice, three times, and Zuko understands her meaning perfectly. 

  
Prisons are only impenetrable until someone breaks into them. 

And luckily, just by coincidence, they’ll be up that way within a few weeks. 

* * *

Piandao brings them to a small garden outside, and Zuko can remember, painfully well, playing cards with Lu Ten on the stone ground, giggling and shoving his cousin when he cheated. 

  
“I need to get back to Sokka, but please, wait here, and we can all have dinner together. Your uncle will be overjoyed to hear that I’ve finally set eyes on you. In the meantime, Prince Zuko-” Piandao hands him a scabbard. “If I remember correctly, you favored these quite heavily. Perhaps you’d like to get reacquainted?” 

Piandao disappears back into the house, and Zuko stares down at the unassuming black leather of the scabbard.  
  
“What is it?” Aang demands, lifting himself up on a gust of wind to look over Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko carefully pulls out the sword within by the hilt, the metal glinting in the afternoon sun. 

“Oh, it’s just a sword.” Aang blows a raspberry. “Boring. Hey, who wants to play air ball with me-?” 

Zuko separates the sword into two, each half equally well-balanced in his hands, and feels a grin spread across his face. 

  
_“ _T_ wo _ swords?” Katara asks dubiously. “That seems a little excessive,”

“Dao.” Zuko corrects, flexing his wrist as he moves the swords in concentric circles. “It’s not two swords- it’s two halves of the same sword.” 

He whips one above his head, inadvertently taking off the leaves of a nearby tree branch, and Katara gives a surprised laugh. 

  
“You already know how to use them?” She asks.

Zuko nods and pulls the halves together again. “My cousin.” He says. “Lu Ten trained with Master Piandao when I was little. I came with him, and Master Piandao let me train, too.” 

“You’re a firebender,” Toph points out. “Why would you need weapons?” 

Zuko gives a half-shrug and very purposefully does not think about the dark, rough skin splotched across his torso, his arms. “I wasn’t very good at it when I was younger. A lot of firebenders make their first flames as a baby, but I think I didn’t spark until I was five or six.” 

“How old was Azula?” Aang asks curiously. 

“Six months.” Zuko says, and laughs. “Mom told me she lit my hair on fire.” 

“That tracks.” Katara says darkly. “She’s crazy.” 

“Ozai is a lot worse.” Zuko says, and slides the swords back into the scabbard. It feels _right_ , hanging over his shoulder. Like he was missing a part of himself, and now it’s returned. 

Katara makes a disbelieving sound, like she’s going to argue with him, but Aang distracts her into a playing a game, and Zuko runs through the katas he remembers, thinking of a little girl with bright eyes and hot fire in the garden, running away from him, giggling. 

* * *

Sokka’s sword is dark and far heavier than any weapon Zuko’s ever seen, and Sokka’s pride for it is even denser. They leave Piandao’s estate a few days later, burdened with extra supplies, a white lotus tile in Sokka’s pocket, and Piandao’s promise to contact Iroh. 

The islands where they’ll meet the rest of the invasion forces are only a few hours’ flight away, and they arrive several days ahead of schedule. Sokka spends most of their free time hunched over maps. 

“Don’t you have this memorized by now?” Zuko asks him, the night before the fleet is due to arrive. It’s late; the rest of the kids are already asleep.

Sokka doesn’t tear his eyes away to say, “Maybe, but we need more back-up plans, in case Aang can’t get to the Fire Lord, or something else goes wrong in the palace, or-” Sokka cuts off. He glances up at Zuko. “Are you gonna be okay, going into the palace?” He asks quietly.

Zuko is meant to accompany Aang through the tunnels under the Caldera, in plan A. 

Zuko shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter if I am or I’m not.” He says. “This has to be done.” 

“I know he’s, like, the worst person in history,” Sokka says hesitantly. “but Ozai’s still your dad, Zuko.” 

“He burned off half my face in front of a crowd, Sokka.” Zuko says, and only feels a little bad when his brother cringes, intaking a sharp breath. “And he killed my mother. I’d kill him myself if it wasn’t Aang’s job.” 

“It’s not one that I want.” Aang says, mumbled, and Sokka and Zuko both look up. Zuko had thought the younger kids were all asleep, but Aang is staring at them with wide eyes. 

“What, Aang?” Sokka asks. 

“Killing anyone.” He repeats. “It goes directly against everything I was taught.”

“Aang.” Zuko says, and forces his tone to be gentle. “Do you know how many deaths he’s responsible for? How many more people he’ll kill?”

“I know, I know,” Aang shakes his head, rubbing his hands over his dark hair. “You think I don’t know that? Acting in self-defense is one thing, but to go to the palace with the intention to deliberately murder someone? It’s not right.” 

“I was your age when he killed me.” Zuko says bluntly. “I was _twelve_ , and I was defenseless. Don't you get that he won’t hesitate to kill you, too? He'll-” 

Aang gets up, face paling, and within a few seconds, has disappeared completely from view of the fire. Zuko stares into the darkness, his stomach curdling sour. 

“Uh,” Sokka says. “I think you maybe were a little harsh, Zuko.” 

“You think?” Zuko scrubs at his face. “Fuck. I’m an idiot. He’s a _kid_.” 

“Go find him, I’ll stay here.” Sokka says, and Zuko, the guilt already settling around his neck like a whetstone, doesn’t need anymore prompting to take off in the direction Aang went. 

* * *

The islands aren’t big, but Aang has a habit of finding the most precarious, isolated areas and shoving himself into tight corners, so it takes Zuko a couple of hours to cover all the ground. 

Zuko finds him as Agni’s face is barely cresting over the ocean, drenching the sky in the palest pinks and blues. He carefully climbs down the cliff-face, and settles himself on the ledge next to Aang, who has a razor in one hand, and is staring out over the water with a blank expression. 

“You’re right, aren’t you?” Aang says, and his voice is rough, like he’s been crying. “I have to do it.”

“Aang-” Zuko takes a deep breath. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you. All I did was scare you, and it wasn’t okay.”

“But you’re right.” Aang insists. “He _did_ kill you. And maybe- maybe I have to just do it.” His hand tightens around the razor, and he reaches up to touch the edge of his arrow, just barely visible under his hair. 

“I won’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.” He says. “I failed everyone once already. I won’t do it again.” 

* * *

Not too terribly far away, the Princess of the Fire Nation climbs the steps to a prison cell once again, her cloak wrapped tight around her. Her uncle sits with his back turned, his head bowed, showing only his bedraggled hair and dirty neck. 

“Today’s the invasion.” Azula says by way of greeting. “Mai, Ty Lee, and Father are already underneath the palace.” 

Uncle doesn’t respond. He never does. 

“I don’t know why those idiots would still try and invade, after I _clearly_ learned their plans in Ba Sing Se.” Azula studies her nails. “But if they’re dumb enough to get killed from a little lightning, then-” 

“Azula.” Uncle says, and Azula freezes to the spot. 

Uncle turns, and his face is determined, his eyes bright, though he hasn’t seen the outside of this prison cell in months. “Your brother did not die from your lightning.” 

“He’s not my brother,” Azula says automatically, though the words feel wrong, even now. 

The boy in the catacombs had looked so much like her _._

Like looking in a mirror. 

Like looking at a mirrored past where _she_ knelt on cold stone while Father towered above her, hand alight. 

“Azula.” Uncle says again. “Zuko did not die. Despite your father’s best efforts. And yours.” 

“Why are you even talking to me, now, after months?” Azula snaps. “What, all it takes is one mention of my idiot brother, and you're finally ready?"

Uncle’s eyes soften, if just for a moment. “I love you just as much as I love Zuko.” 

_“Loved_ Zuko.” 

“Love.” Uncle repeats firmly. “And I will say that to you as many times as it takes before you understand that what your father has done and will do, is _not_ love.”  
  


“Love is a weakness.” Azula says, and her mouth feels bitter. Uncle raises an eyebrow at her. “It’s a weakness to be cut out. Have fun rotting away in your cell, Uncle. I’ll see you after the invasion.” 

* * *


	11. Totality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Day of the Black Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello! 
> 
> Well. this is a predicament, isn't it. I REALLY hope everyone who was subscribed to this got the memo, but I'm not sure they did! If you know someone who was reading this work, PLEASE let them know it's not actually abandoned, I just accidentally orphaned it, and it will be continued here!!
> 
> As always, thank you to my lovely beta @agentcalliope (tumblr and ao3) !!!

Hakoda looks so relieved to see them. It feels closer to what Zuko always imagined their reunion would be when he returned from the war, instead of what happened instead on the ship, weeks and weeks ago. 

“I’m so glad you’re all okay.” He mumbles into Sokka’s hair, only holding all three of them tighter when Katara starts to squirm. 

“You saw us like, a _month_ ago.” She complains, and Hakoda lets them go, only to take Katara’s face in both hands, kiss her forehead, and then tilts her chin up. 

“If you can look me in the eyes and tell me that you have done absolutely nothing reckless since the last time I saw you, I will stop.” 

Sokka snorts, and Katara immediately slaps a hand over her brother’s mouth. 

“Everything’s been great!” She lies, and Zuko, out of her reach, laughs. 

“Good to hear.” Bato raises an eyebrow, clearly disbelieving. “Your father’s been practically impossible to live with since you all left.” 

“How is that any different from normal?” Sokka asks. Hakoda makes a deeply affronted noise, and Sokka grins. “Did you manage to contact everyone?”

“I did. But, Sokka, are you sure about this? Some of them seem a little...” Hakoda tilts his hand back and forth. 

“Trust me, Dad, we’re gonna need all hands on deck.” 

Zuko cranes his neck over his siblings, to where Aang and Toph are greeting a crowd of people in Earth greens and browns at the docks. 

“Oh, shit.” He mutters. “Katara- look who’s here.” 

“Hmm?” Katara looks up just as Haru steps off the boat, clapping Aang on the back, and immediately ducks her head again. 

Sokka gasps. “Lover Boy!” He crows, elbowing Katara. 

“Shut up.”

“Sokka. Oh my- Sokka, he’s grown a _mustache!_ ” 

_“Shut up!”_

* * *

The plan is anything but simple, but Zuko’s watched Sokka commit every detail of every plan and subplan to memory for the past few weeks, which is why it’s a little surprising to see him fumble when he steps up to explain it to everyone.

Zuko looks over and makes eye contact with Hakoda, who’s grimacing as Sokka drops one of the maps. Again. He gets up, clapping a hand on Sokka’s shoulder. 

“I got this, son.” He says, and Sokka immediately droops down, coming to sit next to Zuko and Aang. 

“Well, that was embarrassing.” Sokka mumbles into his hands as Hakoda takes over the explanation. 

“Dad’s just presenting it.” Katara soothes. “It’s still your plan, Sokka.” 

But Sokka just shakes his head and stares out blankly over the crowd, and Zuko watches his face, wondering if his brother is experiencing the bone-deep uncertainty and doubt he’s feeling, too. 

* * *

Aang, as usual, has clambered up to the highest cliff by the docks, crouched by the edge as the ships are prepared for battle. He’s shaved his head completely by the time Zuko finds him, and he’s shed his Fire Nation clothing for the oranges and yellows of his Air robes. Sokka is sitting next to him on the cliff, wolf’s helmet in his hands. 

“Oh, hey, Zuko.” Aang greets as Zuko clambers down the cliff wall and sits next to him.

Zuko hasn’t yet put on the warrior armor Bato handed to him, but Katara spent at least twenty minutes re-braiding his beads back into his hair, and that, at least, made him feel a little bit closer to normal. 

“Are you ready?” Sokka asks quietly. “I know you said you were good with going into the palace, after, but-” 

“Sokka.” Zuko interrupts, because he’s _not_ answering that question. “Are you?” 

Sokka stares into the blank eyes of the wolf’s helmet in his hands. “When Dad left, we weren’t old enough to fight.” Sokka says. “And- I don’t know, this is the first time Dad’s seen me old enough to be considered a warrior, and I already fucked it up.” 

“Messed what up?” Aang asks blankly, but Zuko sighs and claps his brother’s shoulder. 

“I couldn’t even explain the plan properly-“ 

“Public speaking isn’t, like, your big moment to prove yourself.” Aang interrupts. “No one’s good at public speaking!” 

“You _made_ the plan, and Hakoda is following it, isn’t he?” Zuko adds, and Sokka shrugs. 

“I guess.” 

“You shouldn’t guess anything.” Aang says, and stands, opening his glider. “Today is going to work. It has to.” 

He takes off from the cliff, and Zuko and Sokka watch him go. 

“You don’t have anything to prove, Sokka.” Zuko says quietly. “Not to Hakoda or anyone.” 

“But-“

“You don’t.” Zuko says firmly. “You never have. Your plan is good, and it’s gonna work.” 

“I hope so.” Sokka says, and looks over at the clothes sitting in Zuko’s lap, quirking an eyebrow. “Come on. Let’s go put on your armor. What could say ‘fuck you’ to your shitty-ass dad better than showing up at his house in Water Tribe gear?” 

* * *

It takes about an hour of travel to get close to the Great Gates of Azulon, using the incredible machines Sokka invented. Hakoda has them all surface before they reach the gates, and Zuko is sitting in the sun next to Toph, listening to her moan about how _stupid_ being anywhere but land is, when Hakoda calls for everyone to get back in. 

“Finally.” Toph groans. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we’re back on _land_.” 

Zuko pats her head in sympathy, and Toph scowls and heads back towards the hatch, The Duke trailing after her. 

“C’mon.” Sokka hauls him up. “I’m so godsdamn jittery-“ 

“Sokka-“ Zuko jerks his hand towards Katara and Aang, who are standing on the edge of the metal ship, talking intensely. Aang suddenly grabs Katara and kisses her, before immediately taking off on his glider. Katara watches him go, cheeks reddening, and Sokka makes retching sounds. 

“Oh, spirits, I’m gonna _puke-_ “ Sokka groans dramatically. 

“ _Uh-uh,_ dummy,” Toph’s voice says sharply from inside. “there’s only room for _one_ seasick person on this ship, and I already claimed that role, so get it together!” 

* * *

The Great Gates of Azulon emerge out of the mist, and Zuko stares up at the stone face of his grandfather- the strong, straight nose, the lifeless eyes. 

“Is it weird?” Katara asks, nocking her chin at the statue. “Since he’s, like, technically related to you?” 

“He ordered me killed when I was eleven.” Zuko says bluntly, and turns away. “We could destroy it for all I care.” 

“Hm.” Katara says thoughtfully. “I’ve already taken down a couple other giant statues. What’s one more?” 

Zuko, despite the ball of anxiety in his stomach only growing larger and twisting more convoluted as they sail closer to his homeland, grins at his sister. 

* * *

It’s bizarre, almost, how easy it is to fall into a rhythm, fighting side by side with Hakoda and Sokka.

It’s more bizarre how familiar everything is. The warm, heavy, salt air, the metal of the walls, the dark cobblestones beneath his feet. 

Flames are begging to explode out along his palms, and the hilts of his dao are smouldering under his grasp, but Zuko shoves them back down. 

The likelihood that someone- anyone- will look past the moons stitched into his clothes, the braids swinging in his face, at his eyes, his hair, his _scar_ \- and connect it to the apparent rumours that have been flying across the Fire Nation for months, is already too high. Zuko will not add to that by throwing fire in someone’s face and confirming it. 

Or he thought he wouldn’t.

Hakoda had disappeared into a battlement after ordering Zuko, Sokka, and Katara to take out the other. It’s almost too easy for Katara to freeze the soldiers inside to the floor, and for Sokka to swing up and destroy the weapons while Zuko takes out any other machinery in the building. 

“Well,” Katara frowns as they jog back out, slinging another casual ball of water over her shoulder, directly into the face of a soldier whose ice has begun to melt. “That was quick.” 

Hakoda, at the next battlement over, is scaling the wall, and they watch as he deftly climbs through the top. They can distantly hear the clash of weapons, grunts of exertion, and then- 

A loud, familiar, hoarse yell of pain. 

“DAD!” Katara yells, and starts forward, but Zuko is faster, and his mind is nearly blank with rage by the time he throws open the doors of embattlements. 

Hakoda is kneeling on the floor, a spear being dug deeper into his side by a soldier, head tilted up and eyes wide in shock. 

Zuko gives a roar of incoherent anger and kicks up, allowing a white-hot blast of fire to erupt from his foot. The soldier starts in surprise, and Zuko grabs him by the tunic and slams him against the wall. The soldier’s head ricochets and hangs down, unmoving. Zuko drops him and spins around, hands out, to find his siblings kneeling by their father. 

“There’s no one else.” Sokka confirms Zuko's quick, questioning look. “Dad got almost all of them.” 

“Wish I had managed to get them all before they got me,” Hakoda says, strained, and Katara shushes him as she rips away the destroyed fabric near the spear, buried in his side. 

“Is he- is he gonna be alright?” Zuko manages to get out. 

“I think so.” Katara says, but her face is grim. “Okay, okay- Zuko- when I say to, I need you to pull the spear straight out. Sokka, you’re gonna push down on it as hard as you can, and don’t lift till I tell you to, and then I’ll start healing.” She looks at Hakoda. “This is gonna hurt, Dad.” 

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Hakoda reassures her, shaky hands resting on top of hers. “Do what you have to.” 

Zuko grips the spear, Sokka rips off a portion of his tunic, and Katara pulls water out of her waterskin. 

“Okay, Zuko. Pull it out.” 

Zuko pulls the hilt out as quickly as he can, but Hakoda still lets out a choked gasp of pain, and nausea rushes into Zuko’s stomach as he stares down at the blood-soaked spearpoint. Sokka makes quick work of shoving the fabric in his hands over the wound and pushing down, hard. 

  
Zuko falls to his knees, head filling with static, as Katara begins to push water over the wound. A large, clumsy hand pats his arm, and Zuko jerks his head up to find Hakoda, eyes half-closed, staring at him. 

“I’m really proud of you, kid.” He mumbles. 

“Stop talking, Dad.” Katara orders. “Just give me a minute. You’re gonna be alright.” 

“I know I am, Katara.” Hakoda says. “You’re my healer. How could I be anything but?” 

* * *

It takes Katara nearly half-an-hour, judging by the dimming sun throwing beams through the door, to knit the wound back together, and wrap it with clean cloth pilfered from a first-aid kit on the wall. 

“Everyone- everyone should be at the meeting point, by now.” Hakoda says, as Sokka helps him sit up. “I have to go-” 

“Dad, you’re in _no_ condition to do anything but sit.” Katara says. 

“But my men- I need to _lead-”_

“I’ll do it.” Sokka says suddenly, and it throws the room into silence. Zuko glances over at Katara who shrugs. 

“What?” Zuko asks. 

Sokka is staring down at the helmet in his hands. “I’ll lead the rest of the invasion.” He says. “I can do it, Dad, I really can, I made the plans and I-” 

“Sokka.” Hakoda interrupts. “I have _no_ doubt. Let’s get going so you can meet up with Bato, and see what’s happened with the rest of the troops.”

* * *

The Fire Nation troops have almost all retreated back by the time they manage to hobble Hakoda up to the meeting point. Zuko and Katara help Hakoda into a small building they’ve captured while Sokka goes to find Bato. 

“Does it feel any better, Dad?” Katara asks worriedly, ready to pop open her water skin when Hakoda bites back a groan of pain, a sheen of sweat shining on his face. 

“No, no, I’m okay, sweetheart.” Hakoda says.. “It’s just so damn hot. Zuko, how the hell do you people live here-” 

“We like the heat.” Zuko shrugs, and tries not to think very hard about all the afternoons he spent in the cool shallows of Ember Island, Azula, little and baby-faced, splashing him, Lu Ten doing handstands in the water, as the sun beat down relentless and constant on them. 

“‘Course you do.” Hakoda claps a clumsy hand on Zuko’s cheek, and Zuko has to take a deep breath to not let the simple act of affection overwhelm him. “Shoulda been born a cat, kid.” 

“He’s catty enough.” Katara snorts, and the moment is over as quickly as it came as Zuko reaches over Hakoda to smack her arm. 

“ _Koda?”_

The door to the buildings slams open, and Bato is striding across the room, Sokka hot on his heels. 

“Bato, Bato, he’s _fine-_ ” Sokka is saying, tugging on Bato’s sleeve, but it doesn’t slow him down one bit.

“What happened?” Bato demands roughly, sliding onto his knees in front of Hakoda.

“It’s fine, it’s alright,” Hakoda soothes, one hand coming up to rest on Bato’s thigh, and Zuko gets the sudden, distinct feeling that he’s intruding on a private moment. “I was just _lightly_ stabbed.” 

“Lightly- lightly-” Bato splutters. “Koda, there’s no such thing as _lightly stabbed!”_

“I’m _fine.”_ Hakoda gestures to his bandages. “Katara got to me so quick, it was like I’d never been stabbed!” 

“If Zuko hadn’t taken that guy out, it wouldn’t have been so fast.” Katara crosses her arms. 

Bato spends a moment just staring at Hakoda with what looks like a deep resignation in his eyes. He takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes towards the ceiling. 

“Hakoda.” He says seriously. “Don’t do that again. I’m not Speaking at your funeral. I won’t do it.” 

“Ridiculous.” Hakoda scoffs. “You wouldn’t leave me eulogy-less-” 

“The fuck I _wouldn’t_ , you stupid, reckless-” 

“Let’s get out of here.” Sokka mutters, tugging Zuko to his feet. “This is gonna last forever. We need to figure out our next move.” 

They duck out of the building, Hakoda and Bato’s arguing following them out the door. 

Zuko had been too preoccupied with helping to move Hakoda to really look around at the troops, but now, as Katara ducks out after him, he realizes what a state everyone is in. 

Tulok is sitting in the shade of the wall, a bloody rag pressed tight to his right eye, and one of the older warriors Zuko never got to know very well is trying to coax him to take it off. Katara gives a little gasp and takes off towards them, one hand on her water skin. 

Tulok is hardly the only one; Earth Kingdom men and Swampbenders are leaned up in any shade they can find, some trying to tend to wounds, some attempting to repair armor or broken weapons. Zuko does a quick headcount, and squats down next to Sokka, who’s already hunched over plans on the ground. 

“Toph.” He says to Sokka. “Where’s Toph?” 

“Right here, Sparky.”

Zuko whips his head around. Toph is walking in to the small camp, looking slightly battered but otherwise no worse for the wear, and behind her is-

 _“Aang?”_  
  
Zuko springs up. “What happened?” He asks urgently. There doesn’t seem to be any blood staining his robes, and there aren’t any other injuries apparent on him, but his face is still so stoney, something must be wrong- “Aang, what happened?” 

“They weren’t there.” Aang says numbly, shaking off Zuko’s hand and collapsing against the wall, head in his hands. “The palace was completely empty. No soldiers, no guards, no Azula-” He looks up, and when he meets Zuko’s gaze, his eyes are dead. “No Ozai.” 

Sokka lets out a long string of swears and turns around, hands tightening into fists. 

“They knew, they fucking _knew,”_ he snarls. “damn it! I should have seen this coming, I should have-” 

“Sokka, stop.” Zuko says firmly, turning his brother back around. “Stop it. You did _everything_ you could, this is not your fault. Hakoda left you in charge, so now we just need to figure out what we’re doing _next._ ” 

“He’s right, Sokka.” Toph crosses her arms. “None of us saw this coming.” 

“I should have-” 

“Doesn’t matter.” Aang says dully. “He’s gone. We need to figure out how to get out of here. There’s no way we can find him before the eclipse.” 

“Actually-” Zuko says, and then stops, trying to determine if the latent knowledge bursting forth from the back of his mind is real, or some odd, fake memory planted by a desperate need for hope.

But no, Captain Izumi had made him run the procedures so many times that year, even waking him up in the middle of the night to force him to memorize the path down to the chambers, that _couldn’t_ be fake- 

“Actually, I’m pretty sure I know where he is.”   
  


* * *

  
Katara stays behind to finish healing Hakoda and the other injured men, and Toph is easily able to locate the tunnels underground and force an entry-way. 

“Do you know where we’re going?” Aang asks dubiously as Zuko leads them through another dark, damp hallway. “We don’t have a lot of time before the eclipse-” 

“Maybe ten minutes, if we’re lucky,” Sokka adds grimly. 

“I’m _trying_ , okay?” Zuko grits out, as they round another corner and come to a stairwell. “I haven’t exactly been here recently.” 

Toph looks as though she’s concentrating, and she points down.“There.” She says. “Down the stairs. There’s people down there. _Lots_ of people.” 

“Let’s go.” Sokka says firmly, and starts down the stairs. 

Aang stays at the top, hands balled tightly into fists, and Zuko stops. 

“Aang?” he calls. “We gotta go, come on-” 

“I- I just-” Aang shakes his head. “I’m fine. Come on.” 

He takes off, and Zuko claps a quick hand on his shoulder as he passes him, and tries not to think too hard about the fact that _lots of people_ in the royal bunkers means _royalty,_ and royalty means- 

There’s a large, ornate door in front of them, stretching high into the ceiling. No one is in the hallway, surrounding the door, and something niggles at the back of his mind. 

Zuko stops suddenly, and remembers a heavy, reassuring hand on his shoulder, Captain Izumi saying in that gruff, pointed voice of hers- 

_“You’ll always be safe down here, Prince Zuko. All you have to do is find your way, and we’ll do the rest.”_

“This is it.” He says, and his voice shakes. “We’re here.” 

Sokka gives a decisive nod, and puts a hand on Zuko’s shoulder, pulling him back. 

“Toph?” He asks. “Can you-?” 

“Already on it.” Toph says, and pulls at the metal until it gives in front of her. It wails as it scrapes against the stone floor. 

“Let’s go.” Aang says, and ducks first through the hole Toph’s made, before Zuko can stop him. Sokka and Toph are next, and soon, Zuko has no choice but to follow. 

He realizes too late what was bothering him. 

“There’s no one here.” Aang says. 

The room is utterly empty, all three of the large, imposing thrones devoid of royalty to depose of. An odd, guilty, mix of relief and anger floods Zuko. 

“Toph? I thought you said-”

“I said there were people _down_ here, Sparky, not that there were people specifically in this room.” 

“They- they’re not here.” Aang interrupts. “Do you think they evacuated the Caldera?” 

“I- maybe? I never, ever, remember being evacuated. These bunkers are considered so secure, they’d bring us down here for practically every threat.” Zuko tugs at his beads. 

“Are there any other rooms? Any other place they could be?” Sokka demands. 

“I-” Zuko shuts his eyes. “One of the rooms was flooded with lava decades ago. The other secure room is-” He snaps them open again. 

“I know where the Fire Lord is.” 

* * *

Down three flights of stairs, two left turns, one right turn, and through a long hallway. 

He never knew this path, quite as well. 

This is the way to the Dragon Throne Room. And after Ozai became Fire Lord- 

Well, he never seemed quite so concerned about preserving Zuko’s life in the event of an attack. 

“Is it weird that there are no guards?” Aang mutters as Zuko stops them, right before turning the final corner. 

“Oh, there are.” Toph says. “They’re all- they’re all in front of a door, up ahead?” 

“Yeah, then we’re heading the right way.” Zuko says, and peaks around the corner. 

Eight fully-armoured guards stand in front of a set of double doors. About half have spears, but Zuko isn’t about to rely on that to determine who’s a bender, and who isn’t- the entire Fire Nation does not prescribe to the same dichotomies his father does. 

“Sokka?” he whispers. “Time?” 

Sokka shakes his head. “I think it may have started- I lost track.” 

Zuko holds up a finger and attempts to light a flame. When nothing comes out, not even a puff of smoke, he’s forcibly reminded of being twelve, and terrified of the fact that the fire jumped with his anger, and mellowed with his breaths. 

“It’s time.” He says. “Let’s go.” 

* * *

It’s not much of a fight. Toph is surrounded by her element, and Aang seems to have something to prove. The floor slides out from under the guards quicker than they can turn to see them, and Toph re-adjusts the new, guard-less floor with a casual flick of her wrist. Behind the doors, a deep voice is snapping, and another, higher voice is responding. 

  
“We gotta move before they alert more guards.” Sokka says. “Aang, you ready?”

“Does it matter if I’m not?” 

“Not really,” Sokka says, as the door begins to creak open. 

The doors blow open before Zuko can even get into a defensive stance, and standing before him, eyes wide with shock- or fear, Zuko doesn’t know- face pale, long, painted nails digging into the door- 

Is Azula. 

For a long, pregnant pause, no one moves. 

Azula stares at him.

Zuko stares back. 

“Uncle said-” Azula whispers, quiet, rushed. “I-I didn’t-” 

And then several things happen at once. 

A spear-tip is shoved into the back of Zuko’s neck, and by the gasps of his brother and Toph and Aang next to him, they’re in a similar predicament. 

The doors are blown open, Azula steps back, and Zuko is shoved forward and forced down to his knees. 

“Zu-!’ Sokka yells hoarsely, before he’s cut off, like someone’s thrown a hand over his mouth. 

And Zuko drags his head up, because Agni-dammit, if he’s dying, he’s not dying with his head _bowed-_

And when he does, he meets a face he’s seen thousands of times- in his memories, in his nightmares.

In his mirror. 

“So, you’re the miserable little creature causing such a stir,” Fire Lord Ozai says, sipping from a tea cup with a half-smile on his face, as though anything about this situation is amusing. 

“Hello, Father.” Zuko says coolly. He makes to get up, but it only takes a sharp point digging into the back of his neck to force him back down to the ground. 

“Azula.” Ozai says. 

“Yes, Father?” Azula steps forward. Her hands don’t shake, her voice doesn’t waver, but Zuko doesn’t have to meet her eyes to realize that something is wrong. Something is very wrong. 

“I thought you told me you had disposed of this wretched imposter.” Ozai says, and Azula stills. 

“Father, I-” 

“ _Enough._ ” Ozai snaps. “Your failure has brought more shame upon you than I ever thought possible.” 

Azula gasps as if she’s been hit. 

“That’s enough!” Aang’s clear voice rings out, and a gust of strong wind sweeps at Zuko’s back. “Let him _go!_ ”

“Oh, and what is this? The Avatar?” Ozai sounds amused, and though the spear point has certainly drawn blood at this point, Zuko tips his head to the side, and finds Aang holding out his hands, clearly waiting to signal Toph.

“Well, well, Azula.” Ozai stands, and Zuko hears him crack his neck. “It appears you haven’t been totally useless, after all. I’ll make sure to tell your little friends’ guards. I’ll have the pleasure of killing both of you at once.” 

“Oh, _please._ ” Toph yells out, and when feet shuffle towards her, there’s a large thump, as though Toph has slammed a large rock into them. “You aren’t killing anyone today, Loser-Lord-” 

“ _Silence her!_ ” Ozai snarls, and Zuko hears a muffled shuffle, and a high gasp of pain, followed by a strangled yell from Sokka, and Zuko decides that if he’s dying here, he’s not dying on his knees while his friends are in trouble. 

The spear point is still dug into the back of his neck. His dao are still strapped to his back. Zuko tenses and carefully looks to the side. The guard standing next to him is obviously distracted by the scuffle in the back of the room. 

Well. 

It’s now or never. 

Zuko throws out his arm against the back of the guard’s knees, knocks her down, and swings his dao out in one fell swoop, rolling to his feet as he separates the blade into two. 

Toph and Aang seem to be doing fine holding back the guards. Sokka has a gash across one cheek, but gives him a quick nod of assurance, so Zuko spins around, planting one foot on the neck of the guard to keep her down. 

Ozai looks deeply unimpressed and deeply unbothered, as Zuko holds out one sword towards him. Azula is knelt beside him, head bowed. 

“You always were utterly useless at bending.” Ozai says casually, taking another sip from his tea, and Zuko is so surprised, he lowers his sword- until Aang lets out a yell, and he throws it right back up. 

“So you know who I am.” Zuko snarls. 

“I suppose.” Ozai’s golden eyes lazily drag over him, clearly taking in everything from his sealskin boots to the braids Katara had painstakingly re-done only this morning, each bead carefully secured. His eyes land on his scar, and a surge of overwhelming rage wells up in Zuko. 

“Did you mean to do it?” Zuko's voice cracks; his grip is slipping on his sword. “Did you mean to?” 

“I didn’t care very much, either way.” Ozai says, the expression on his face never changing from the stoney boredom it’s becoming so clear Azula has been trying to emulate. “You were never going to be the heir, boy, haven’t you realized that by now? You were always the spare.” 

The air changes, somehow. Like a current of energy is pulsing through the air. 

Ozai puts his teacup down and pushes himself to his feet, cracking his neck, and there’s a whoosh of heat on Zuko’s neck. 

“ _Shit!_ ” He hears Sokka swear, and Zuko prays to any spirit that will listen that Aang has retained _any_ of the basic firebending he taught him. 

Ozai begins moving his hands in a methodical, deliberate circle, and the air crackles. 

“I suppose that this time, I’ll have to make sure you _stay_ dead.” 

Zuko doesn’t even have time to move before blue light fills his retinas, his entire body tenses, and- 

It never hits. 

Azula is standing in front of him, her hands held out, lightning coursing through her fingers and up into the ceiling.

She lowers her hands, staring at them as though they’re not quite attached to her arms, and Ozai snarls, hands alight with white-hot flames. Azula looks up at him, and then looks back over her shoulder at Zuko. 

“Go.” She whispers. 

“Azula-” 

“ _GO!”_ She shoves him back, nails digging into his arm, and Zuko is barely able to catch himself, stumbling towards the back of the room. 

The air crackles again. 

Toph, Aang, and Sokka have taken care of a majority of the guards, and Zuko whip the final guard’s fire around his head and back into the guard’s face. He grabs Toph’s arm, dragging her towards the door. 

“But Ozai-” 

“We need to _go_ , Aang-” 

“I didn’t, I didn’t-” 

“ _We need to go!”_

Zuko gets Aang through and slams the door shut, and Toph immediately brings up a rock wall to lock them out. 

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck-”_ Sokka pulls at the roots of his hair, pacing away. The blood from his gash has dripped down into his shoulder armor, staining the white fur a deep, rusted red. “I fucked it up, I fucked it _up,_ I, I-” 

Zuko is intimately familiar with the stuttered, gasping breaths leaving his brother’s lungs. He’s felt the panicked constriction a thousand times, watched his own vision warp down to greyed-out, blackness encroaching. 

But he’s never seen Sokka like this. 

And it’s worse. It’s so much worse. 

“Hey, hey-” He sheathes his dao and grabs Sokka roughly, hands tight on his shoulders. “ _Breathe.”_

“We- we, we need to get _out_ -” 

“Breathe, Sokka. Breathe.” 

  
Sokka shoves his hands into his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. 

“We need to get out.” Sokka says, his voice cracked. “We need to, we need to get Dad, and-” 

“We’re going to get out.” Zuko says firmly with a conviction he absolutely doesn’t feel, and prays to Tui his brother doesn’t know the difference. “You good?”

“Fuck, I’m _fine._ ” 

He’s obviously not, but they truly don’t have time. There are muffled sounds coming from inside the room, and a thundering of feet coming from one direction. 

“Toph-” 

“There’s a lot of people coming.” She confirms. “And- and someone in the other direction.” 

“Just one?”

“Just one.”

“Then that's the direction we’re going in.” Sokka says, and gives himself one more shake, before he stands up straight and narrows his eyes. “We’re getting out of here.” 

Zuko grips his shoulder, nods, and decidedly does not think about his sister, electricity crackling on her fingertips, behind a rock wall. 

The thundering behind them grows louder as they take off down the hall. 

They haven’t gone _nearly_ far enough for Zuko’s comfort when a singular door in the wall opens, and a guard steps out, spear gripped tightly in her hand. 

She’s dressed head-to-toe in armor, but there are three, distinctive, bright gold stripes on her shoulders, and Zuko throws out an arm as Sokka charges forward to stop him. 

“Captain Izumi.” Zuko doesn’t even know what he’s expecting from her. “I, I-” 

Izumi pulls off her faceplate, and her eyes are hard, her face betraying no emotion. There are shouts behind them, and Izumi’s grip on her spear tightens. 

Zuko’s palms heat up. 

“Prince Zuko.” Izumi says, voice exactly as he remembers- no nonsense, no inflection. She doesn’t even seem surprised to see him. “Behind me, there’s a tunnel that leads outside the gates of the Palace.” 

“HEY!” A gruff voice shouts behind them. “CAPTAIN, STOP THEM!” 

“Take the first left turn, and then continue on until you get to a grate at the end.” 

“Captain-” Zuko’s voice cracks. 

Izumi stares over their heads. 

“Keep the Avatar safe. There are people loyal to you, Child of Agni.” Izumi says, and her face hardens. “Go!” 

_“Captain Izumi! Stop them!”_

Sokka grabs his forearm and drags Zuko through the door. 

The last thing Zuko sees is Izumi, teeth bared, one hand slamming the door shut behind them, the other fending off an oncoming attack from one of her soldiers.

* * *

“You need to go.” Hakoda says firmly. Bato has one arm wrapped around him to keep him upright, even as Katara flies into his arms. “We’ll be alright.” 

“You’re _surrendering_ yourself-” Sokka says. “You don’t know that, you _don’t_ -” 

“Sokka, I’m doing what I can to keep you all safe, and give you the chance to try again, another day.” Hakoda interrupts. “We'll be fine. Now, take the rest of the kids, and go.” 

“Dad-” 

“ _Now, Sokka.”_

“He’s right, Sokka.” Zuko says, and Hakoda gives him a grateful nod. “Let’s go.” 

Sokka’s jaw sets, and he turns away from Hakoda, throwing his gear up on Appa and helping Teo up. 

“I-” Zuko stares at his brother, and turns back to Hakoda and Bato, entirely unsure of how to explain away Sokka’s behavior. “He’s just-” 

“Watch out for him, Zuko.” Hakoda says, and looks more resigned than upset or confused. “Please.” 

“I promise I will.” Zuko says. “With my life.” 

* * *

The Caldera grows smaller and smaller as Appa lifts up into the air, three extra editions in the saddle, but still feeling very empty. Even Toph is quiet, sitting next to The Duke in the very back of the saddle. 

Katara is trying valiantly to pretend like she’s not crying as she heals Sokka’s face, but she’s sniffling every few seconds, and her hands tremble. 

“It’s not fair.” Her voice shakes as she breaks the uneasy silence that’s fallen over them. “I... it’s not fair. We just got him back. We just got Dad back.” 

“I’m sorry, Katara.” Aang’s shoulders are hunched over at Appa’s head. “If I had done what i was supposed to-” 

He cuts off, and his shoulders shake. Sokka shoves away Katara’s hands and crawls to the front to wrap an arm around Aang.

Zuko stares down at his hands, and imagines what it feels like to have lightning coursing through them. 

Imagines what it’s like to redirect it. 

* * *

Azula doesn’t cry. 

_She doesn’t cry._

She doesn’t know how. 

The steady rivulets of water dripping from her cheek onto the stone floor that she’s hunched over aren’t tears. The handprint around her throat isn’t a punishment, it’s a lesson. 

“I had _thought_ ,” Father snarls, his black boots blurry in her eyes. “I had thought that taking away your little subordinates would have been enough to control you, Azula.” 

Azula isn’t crying. 

She can’t breathe, and something red is dripping from her neck, almost invisible on the dark stone, but she’s not crying. 

“Clearly, I was wrong.” 

The boots walk away, and a door slams. 

Azula stays very still on the stone floor and waits for someone to appear. To help her. To care. 

No one comes. 

Azula cries. 

  
  



	12. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Listen," the man says. "I don’t know how helpful this will be to you- it might mean nothing, but I was told that a prisoner march will be going through the forest, about a three hour’s walk east from here. They’re coming from the Caldera.” 
> 
> “The Caldera.” Sokka repeats, and turns to Zuko with wide eyes. “That could be- that could be Dad.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello!!! this chapter has been a long time coming, but i very much doubt the next chapter will take nearly as long. for ur patience, have 10k worth of ridiculousness. 
> 
> as always, thank you to my incredible beta @agentcalliope, who without i would definitely be dead in a ditch by now
> 
> enjoy!!!!

“We’re here.” 

Someone shakes his shoulder, and Zuko’s eyes shoot open. Katara is leaning over him. Her eyes aren’t red anymore, but they’re puffy and swollen. 

“ ‘m up.” Zuko mumbles and Katara turns away to help Teo down from Appa’s saddle. Zuko sits up, rolling his sore shoulders. 

They’ve landed in a large stone pavilion, surrounded on both sides with ancient buildings, moss and vines creeping up the sides, as though nature reclaimed this place decades ago, and they’re merely intruding on its progression. He must have been out a while- the air has turned biting, and the sun’s been set for at least two hours. Zuko suppresses a shiver and hops over the side of the saddle. 

Sokka is getting The Duke down. His face is still blank and nearly unreadable, but he looks tired. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Zuko’s voice sounds rough as he checks his brother’s shoulder gently. “I’d have sat up with Aang.” 

“You looked tired.” Sokka doesn’t look at him. 

“So do you, Sokka.” Zuko raises an eyebrow, but Sokka just shrugs. 

“It’s fine, Zuko. Don’t worry about it.” 

“But-” 

“Hey, Zuko, can you start a fire?” Katara calls over by a fountain, where she and Toph are working together to clean the tepid water inside. “I’ll make soup for dinner.” 

“Yeah, hold on-” Zuko looks back at his brother, but Sokka’s already turned away, his shoulders pulled up. Zuko watches him for a second, then shakes his head and heads over to Katara. 

* * *

It’s unnaturally silent around the fire. 

Katara and Aang dole out smaller portions than they normally do, but no one says anything- they have three extra mouths to feed. 

  
Teo barely touches his bowl, resting his head on his hand as he stares into the fire. “Do you think-” he starts, then looks down. “Do you think they’ll be okay?” 

“Uh-” Zuko makes eye contact with Sokka over the fire, who has a panicked look on his face. “I hope so, Teo.”

“But they’re gonna be put in prison.” Teo insists, and the Duke, sitting next to him, makes an unhappy noise. 

“My Dad was in prison before.” Haru says gently, reaching over the Duke to squeeze Teo’s shoulder. “I’m not gonna say it’ll be a vacation, but they’re strong. They’ll be okay.”

“They shouldn’t be there at all.” Sokka says abruptly. 

“Sokka, don’t start this again.” Toph says, her tone biting. “We’ve been over this, like, ten times. This wasn’t-” 

“If I had thought through this, just a little bit more, just a little bit- then the invasion wouldn’t have failed, and everyone wouldn’t be on their way to a spirits-damned _Fire Nation prison_ -”

“Sokka, knock it off!” Katara says sharply. 

“If anyone’s accountable, it’s me.” Aang adds in, and Zuko resists the urge to throw his hands up. 

“Oh, for- no, neither of you are responsible.” He yells, and shoots Sokka a look when he seems ready to argue. “It was a mistake, but we’re all here we’re all safe, and we’re going to keep going-” 

“Oh don’t act like you don’t think it’s your fault!” Toph rolls her eyes. “You almost weren’t safe, were you? Your crazy fucking dad shot _lightning at you.”_

"He did _what?_ ” Katara demands. The water in the fountain behind her sloshes over the edge.

Zuko scowls at Toph and remembers a second too late she can’t see him. Toph, however, sticks her tongue out anyways. 

“It was fine, Katara, I’m fine!” Zuko finally gives in and throws his hands up, and the fire flares. Sokka scoots away, completely nonplussed, but Haru yelps and throws himself back. Zuko shoots him an apologetic look and calms the fire down again. “Azula redirected it.”

“Azula.” Katara looks nearly murderous. “Azula, your sister who tried to kill Aang, and then actually killed you, and _then_ took over the last remaining Earth Kingdom stronghold? That one?” 

“Hm. Teo and Duke, do you guys wanna, uh-” Haru’s eyes are wide, and the Duke is looking more horrified with every word that comes out of Katara’s mouth, clapping his little hands over his ears.

“There’s a giant Pai Sho table in the central temple.” Aang supplies somewhat miserably, and Haru nods at him gratefully and hurries the kids away from the fire. 

“Yeah, she did.” Zuko shoots back, once he’s sure the kids are out of earshot. “Katara, I _know_ she’s done some bad stuff, but she’s still my sister, and she- she looked so _scared-_ ”

“ _I’m_ your sister!” Katara yells, standing up. “And I’ve never tried to _kill_ you, Zuko.” 

“You also weren’t raised by an abusive dictator!” Zuko stands too, and the fire rises with the heat he feels burning in his chest. “How do you think I got this fucking scar, Katara? You think it was an _accident?_ ” 

Katara’s eyes widen, their icy blue reflecting burnt from the crackling flames. 

“Zuko,” Sokka has a hand on his shoulder- when did Sokka even move?- but Zuko throws him off. The heat in his chest has advanced to his head, and he couldn’t stop now if he tried.  
  


“I was twelve, Katara.” Zuko whispers. “I was twelve, and he held fire to my face until I was unconscious from the pain. It killed me, you know this! The burn _killed_ me. My own father killed me. If you think for _one second_ , that Azula has somehow been exempt from that kind of complete cruelty, then I don’t-” 

Zuko cuts off, as Katara, eyes shiny, claps a hand over her mouth, turns, and flees into the darkness of the temple, muffled sobs trailing behind her. Zuko watches her go, guilt already twisting his stomach. 

“Nice going, Sparky.” Toph grumbles as she sits up. 

“I, I-” Zuko stares at the black entrance of the temple. “But she already knew, it’s not like I-” 

“How could she have known?” Sokka demands angrily. “What, you think I just woke her up and told her, ‘hey, by the way, Zuko’s dad burned his face off, and that’s why he showed up in the South with half of his face missing’?” 

“I- yes?” Zuko tugs at his beads as the nausea churns hotter and more acidic. “Why-” 

Sokka grabs his shoulders, roughly turns him, and looks at Zuko with stony, heavy-lidded eyes, jaw set. “I didn’t tell her. I just thought it would be a lot. For Katara to know.” 

“Clearly!” Toph yells. 

Aang, who has been nearly silent through this entire exchange, finally speaks up, arms tight around his knees. “Your dad- he hurt you.” 

“Yeah.” Zuko takes a deep breath and sits back down, focusing on getting the flames back down to a manageable height. “But Aang, you knew that.”

“I know, I know-” Aang shakes his head. “I just. I guess I didn’t want to think about what that really meant. This is a stupid question.”

“Ask it anyways.” Zuko takes another deep breath and holds it, counting backwards from ten, as Aang seems to gather his courage. 

“Did it hurt?” Aang whispers. He finally pulls his eyes up to meet Zuko’s. Zuko stares back into the wide gray- such a rare color, these days. No one walks around with gray eyes. Zuko swallows thickly. 

  
“Yeah, it did,” he says hoarsely. “It hurt a lot. But I got better.” He looks up to Sokka. “And Katara and Sokka really helped.” 

“Mostly Katara.” A half-smile tugs on Sokka’s lips. “I’m pretty sure I just bugged you with plans for fort-building and playing warriors when Gran-gran finally let you outside.” 

“Trust me, that helped just as much.” Zuko assures him. “Though, Katara’s healing was pretty good.” 

“Katara healed you?” Aang repeats. 

“She helped Kanna.” Zuko says. The fire’s died down to a normal level again. “She used to wrap my burn for me.” 

“Oh.” Aang says quietly. “Then hearing that was probably really hard for her, Zuko.” 

Zuko bites his lip and turns away. “You’re right.” He admits, getting up. “I should go-” 

“No, Sparky.” Toph lobs a couple pebbles over the fire at his chest, more a warning than anything else. “You should probably wait till she’s calmed down, and you, too.” 

“I’ll go.” Aang says determinedly. “I want to make sure she’s okay.” 

Sokka sighs as Zuko drops back down to the ground next to him, and Aang disappears into the temple. 

“Do you ever feel like everything just gets more complicated and difficult by the day?” Zuko mumbles, head in his hands. 

“Every single day, I feel like that.” Sokka grips his shoulder. “Every single day.” 

* * *

The days pass, stilted and somewhat silent. Zuko trains Aang, avoids Katara, spars with Sokka. Rinse and repeat. About two weeks after they’ve arrived at the Temple, Zuko still hasn’t had a conversation with his sister. Not that this isn’t normal- back at home, they would routinely go weeks between talking while arguing, both far too stubborn to apologize first. 

They’re sitting at breakfast, Zuko only half-listening to Teo and the Duke chatter about their plans to explore some of the peripheral temples. 

“That sounds like so much fun!” Aang says around a mouthful of congee. “Can I come-”

“No.” Zuko interrupts sternly as Katara hands him a bowl. She doesn’t make eye contact with him or respond when he thanks her, but she doesn’t throw it in his face, so that's something, he guesses. “We have to practice.” 

“Zu- _ko_ ,” Aang whines, shoulders dropping. “Come on, do I _really_ need to keep learning firebending? I feel like I can probably defeat Oz- the Fire Lord without it.” 

“You really wanna take that chance?” Zuko raises an eyebrow. 

“Absolutely not.” Katara shakes her head. “Stop arguing with him, Aang.” 

“Fine.” Aang stares at Teo and the Duke as they take off with a longing look on his face. “But I’m not gonna be _happy_ about it.”

“Doesn’t matter!” Toph interjects cheerfully. “You get to do Earthbending with me and Haru after lunch!” 

Aang groans again, flopping down on the ground. Sokka plucks his abandoned congee bowl off his chest. 

  
“You gonna eat that?” Sokka asks.

Aang gives him a dejected wave.“Eat it.” He says sullenly. “I’m gonna die today, anyways.”

“If you keep complaining, you will.” Zuko says. 

“But-”

“Try me.”

“Yes, Sifu Zuko.” Aang groans. 

* * *

Zuko is dripping with sweat by the time he lets Aang off of practice. Aang immediately calls a wave of water out of the fountain to douse himself with, splashing Zuko as he does so. 

“Fifteen minutes, pipsqueak!” Toph yells over to him. “Me and Haru are already practicing!”

“ _Fifteen-_ that’s not even enough to eat!” 

“Ten.”

“Toph!” 

“ _Nine_.” 

“Fine!” Aang throws his hands up and stomps over to Katara, presumably to complain for his nine minutes of break. Zuko wraps his hair into a quick high bun, watching as Aang flops down at Katara’s feet, hands waving animatedly as he describes how _unfair_ it all is. Katara pats his head sympathetically and Zuko suppresses a laugh. 

“Hey.” Sokka hops down from a high wall. “Aang said there’s a village about a half-hour’s walk from here. Wanna go pick up some supplies with me?” 

“Please.” Zuko immediately agrees. Katara still hasn’t said a word to him, and while he’s grown to be used to their long, icy silences when they argue, he’s never grown to be okay with them. Anything, even a half-hour trek to a Fire Nation village, is better than trying to exist in the same area as his sister right now. 

* * *

“There’s really not a lot here.” Sokka frowns, crossing his arms as he surveys the stall’s offerings.

They’d hastily thrown on their Fire Nation clothes again before they left, and it’s still a shock to see Sokka’s hair in a top-knot, red tunic instead of blue. Zuko wrinkles his nose at the half-rotten vegetables in the stall in front of them. 

“It’s been an awful harvest.” The shopkeeper says, clearly offended. “If you don’t want it, don’t buy it.”

“Wait, sorr-” Sokka says hastily, but the shopkeeper’s already slammed the front of the stall shut. 

“Nice going.” Zuko says, and Sokka steps on his foot. 

“What, you want rotten fruit? We’re better off foraging.” Sokka says, and then stops dead in the middle of the dusty street, eyes fixed on the entry-way of a small shop. 

“What?” Zuko says, shoving his shoulder. “C’mon, we should get going-” 

“Here.” Sokka hauls him by the arm into a shop.

It’s small and cramped, and random items, from tea-pots to swords, are cluttered on shelves from the floor to ceiling. 

  
“Sokka.” Zuko groans. “We don’t have the time _or_ money for one of your shopping sprees.” 

Sokka ignores him entirely and doesn’t let go of him until he’s marched them both up to the counter of the shop. An older man, white-streaked hair pulled back into a bun, looks up from his scroll, eyebrows raised.

“Can I help you boys?” 

“Pai Sho.” Sokka says immediately, and when the man’s eyebrows shoot even higher, amends, “Would you care to play a game of Pai Sho with me?”

“Sokka, _what-_ ” 

The man’s eyes glance over at Zuko, and, as they always do, linger around his scar, before he nods and places the scroll down. “Very well. I am always open to playing with an interesting stranger.”

Sokka grins and still doesn’t turn to look at Zuko as the man gets out a Pai Sho board from underneath the counter and sets it up between them. 

“Guest has the first move.” The man gestures at the board. Sokka places down a white lotus tile in the middle of the board, and the man chuckles, as though they’ve just shared a joke. 

“I see you favor the White Lotus gambit. Not many still cling to the ancient ways.” The man says, and Zuko has to stop himself from smacking his forehead. Of course, of _fucking_ course. 

“Those who do can always find a friend.” Sokka supplies, and the man’s chuckles turn into fully-bellied laughs. He and Sokka make quick work of creating an elaborate design from the pieces. The man places the last piece, shakes his head, and immediately shoves all of the pieces off the board. 

“Follow me.” He jerks his head towards the back of his shop, and Sokka immediately gets up, Zuko hot on his heels. 

“How did you know?” Zuko hisses.

“There was a white lotus carved into his doorframe.” Sokka whispers back as the man leads them through a curtain and down a long hallway. 

“And the whole Pai Sho nonsense?” 

“Piandao.” Sokka’s lip tugs into a half-smile. “He taught me before I left. Said it might come in handy one day.” 

“And he didn’t teach _me?”_ Zuko demands. “I spent, like, _two_ years with him-” 

“He said you never cared enough about Pai Sho to learn.” Sokka shoots back, and laughs at the affronted look that appears on Zuko’s face. “Said I had to learn for the both of us.” 

“It’s a stupid game.” Zuko grumbles. 

“Which is precisely what your uncle thought you might say.” The man opens a door at the end of the hallway and ushers them both into a storeroom, shutting it behind him. 

“My uncle-” Zuko blinks. He hadn’t had time to even _think_ about getting Iroh out, and the guilt has sat heavy in his stomach since they left the Caldera. “You’ve spoken with my uncle? How do you even know who I am?” 

The man tilts his head, eyes pointedly staring at his scar again, and Zuko flushes. 

“Good point.” He mumbles. “Is he okay?” 

“I haven’t talked to the Grand Lotus himself, no. I’m merely an entry-level member of the White Lotus, and your Uncle-” The man shakes his head. “He’s, well, the closest thing we’ll have to a leader, as wise and-” 

“Okay, okay, got it, is Iroh okay?” Zuko interrupts impatiently. “How is he doing in prison?” 

“He’s not in prison, Prince Zuko.” The man says. “He broke out on the day of the Black Sun.” 

“He did _what_?” Sokka says, eyes wide, and Zuko wonders if he’s feeling the same mixture of relief and nausea that he does. 

“The Grand Lotus escaped with help from some of our more, ah, _covert_ members.” The man says. “As far as I know, he’s called a council of the elder Lotus Members outside of the occupation of Ba Sing Se. I know he’ll be overjoyed to hear that I’ve set eyes on you all- you _are_ still travelling with the Avatar, aren’t you?” 

“He’s safe.” Sokka says shortly, and doesn’t volunteer any more information, and Zuko’s glad that _he’s_ thinking, because Zuko’s pretty sure his brain stopped working the minute the man mentioned Uncle. “But we suffered some losses on the Day of the Black Sun.” 

The man shakes his head sympathetically, leaning against the wall. “I heard about that. Listen, I don’t know how helpful this will be to you- it might mean nothing, but I was told that a prisoner march will be going through the forest, about a three hour’s walk east from here. They’re coming from the Caldera.” 

“The Caldera.” Sokka repeats, and turns to Zuko with wide eyes. “That could be- that could be Dad.” 

“And Bato.” Zuko agrees. “We need to-”

“Right, but what about the-” 

“It’s too dangerous for them.” Zuko interrupts firmly, and Sokka nods once, expression determined. 

“Okay. You’re right.” He turns towards the man. “Thank you for your help. I don’t really, ah, know secret society etiquette, I’m pretty new at this- am I even supposed to ask for your name-?” 

“You might as well.” The man chuckles. “You may call me Jian. Please, allow me to give you some provisions. And Prince Zuko- is there a message you’d like to pass on to your uncle?” 

Zuko swallows thickly and thinks of Iroh, encased from the shoulders down in thick rock. 

“Tell him I’ll see him soon.” Zuko says. “And tell him to stay safe till then.” 

* * *

Jian hands Sokka a pack of dried foods and a few water skins and gives them the general direction of where he heard the prisoner transport was passing through. They walk in silence for a few hours, Sokka glancing up at the sun setting lower in the sky every half-hour or so to gauge their position correctly. 

“Katara’s going to kill us. We just said we were going to the market.” Zuko breaks the silence, kicking a branch out of his way. 

“She’ll just be worried.” Sokka shrugs. He looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “You guys haven’t talked, have you?” 

“Not yet.” Zuko admits quietly. 

“You didn’t know that she didn’t know.” Sokka says.

“Yeah, but,” Zuko shakes his head. “I should have known that bringing up Azula wouldn’t go over well. It’s just- I can’t write her off, Sokka. I can’t. If she’s going through even a fraction of what I did…” He trails off, and Sokka shoves his hands into his tunic pockets. 

“You know, you weren’t in the village for any of the raids, Zuko.” Sokka says. “They used to come at least once every few months, and someone else would die, and we’d have to attend another funeral, knowing that it was just going to happen again, and next time, it could be someone we loved. And then it was. I saw what Azula did during the eclipse, I get it, I do- but she also tried to kill Aang. She took down Ba Sing Se. Zuko,” Sokka stops in his tracks. “I had to carry your body. I know Azula’s been through stuff, but we all have. It doesn’t- it doesn’t just cancel that out.” 

“I know.” Zuko whispers. “She’s my sister, Sokka. I can’t give up on her.” 

“And you’re my brother.” Sokka knocks his shoulder. “I’m not gonna give up on you, either. Now come on, let’s go get Dad.” 

* * *

Night falls faster than Zuko is expecting. Sokka surges on, so Zuko lights a small flame in his palm to light the way. He’s about to ask Sokka if they should consider stopping for the night when something catches his eye. 

Small, but clearly visible, a flame burns, hovering between dark trees. Zuko quickly extinguishes his own and shoves Sokka behind a large tree. The fire moves, and when it does, it lights up the dark helmet of a Fire Nation soldier. The soldier shouts a command, and several similar fires light up along the way, stretching down a short line. The soldier gives another order, and the fire moves, growing bigger as it does. 

Towards them. They’re coming towards them. 

“I think we found them.” Sokka whispers, one hand tight around his sword hilt.

“Yeah, no _shit!_ ” Zuko hisses. “Fuck, what are we gonna do?” 

  
Sokka glances around them, at the underbrush that will surely give them away the second they step on it, and he turns back towards Zuko, grinning wickedly. “Remember Jet?” He asks, and jerks his towards the closest tree branch by Zuko’s head. “Get to climbing.” 

  
Zuko scowls, glances at the line of fire growing steadily closer, curses in every language he remembers, and pulls himself up onto the tree branch. 

Sokka follows him, and they manage to disguise themselves within the upper branches of tree’s foliage by the time the fire grows close enough to conceivably detect them. 

As the soldiers grow closer, the sound grows louder. The clanking of metal chains hitting each other, hitting flesh. The shuffling of a couple-dozen feet, barely picked up off the forest floor. Quiet sniffles, harsh breaths. 

Sokka has one hand clamped over his mouth, as though he doesn’t trust himself to not make a sound. Zuko grips his shoulder tight as the soldier in the front stops, only a few trees from them. 

“Halt the line!” He commands, and it’s echoed by the six or so soldiers who flank the line, which then shuffles to a stop. Zuko quickly scans over the prisoners, who are dressed in identical red tunics, and immediately feels his heart sink. None of them have Hakoda’s bulky figure, nor his short brown hair. Sokka shifts under his grip, and Zuko turns to offer some utterly useless platitude, though he’s not sure what, but Sokka’s expression isn’t one of devastation. His brows are furrowed, and he’s leaning over the branch, mouth open in shock. 

“Sokka?” Zuko whispers, nearly silent, and Sokka shakes his head. He grabs Zuko’s hand and points it towards the very end of the line, towards a prisoner at least a head shorter than the rest of them, with cropped auburn hair, and, when the fire passes over them, blue eyes set in a round, dirtied face. 

“Suki.” Sokka breathes. He drops his forehead onto the branch in front of him, and Zuko can barely see how he shakes in the dim light.

He grips his brother’s shoulder tighter. “We’re gonna get her out of here.” He whispers. 

“We don’t have a choice.” Sokka’s hand comes to rest atop his sword hilt. “I’m not leaving her again.” 

* * *

The guards seem to be getting prepared to stop for the night, as far as Zuko can tell. They set up burning torches around a small area, force the prisoners into the middle, and seem to be doing a shift system, where one guard remains up and the rest are able to sleep. 

Suki is the youngest prisoner, for sure, but she’s also the only girl- that becomes apparent as she moves as far away from the rest of the prisoners as the chains around her ankles and wrist will allow. 

  
Zuko and Sokka crouch in the branches, and they wait. Hours pass. Yue rises, only just visible through the thick tree canopy. The guards not on duty remain still where they lie, and the guard on duty, who’s leaning against a tree, arms crossed, begins to nod off. 

Sokka nudges him and nods towards the ground. 

Time to go.

Zuko sends up a quick prayer, to both Yue and Agni, and any other spirit with enough of a sense of justice to allow this one thing, _just this one,_ to go right, and scales down the tree branches. 

He lands as lightly as possible on the leaves underneath, and winces when Sokka drops with far less grace. He lands heavily on his left leg, and immediately claps a hand over his mouth to stifle his cry as Zuko shoots forward to steady him. Zuko pulls him behind the tree trunk, and waits, heart pounding, for some noise to come from the camp to indicate that they’ve been caught. 

Nothing comes. Zuko peeks around the trunk. The guards are still asleep, and the prisoners haven’t stirred. He nudges Sokka in the other direction. Quietly, eyes on the ground to avoid stepping on twigs or dry leaves, they creep around the edge of the camp, leaving at least four or five trees’ worth of space as a buffer. 

Suki isn’t even sleeping. She’s curled up, knees to her chest, head resting on top, eyes half-open. Sokka takes one more glance at the guard, who’s now fast asleep and snoring, and draws his sword. Zuko hangs back as Sokka moves forward, both hands on his dao. 

Sokka takes one decisive hit, slamming his sword against the chains that connect Suki to the next prisoner, and her head jerks up as he does.

“Sok-”

  
Sokka slams his hand against her mouth as prisoners’ heads begin to perk up, and the guards begin to stir. 

“Sokka, let’s go!” Zuko hisses, and Sokka hauls Suki to her feet and slices deftly through the chains between her feet.

“Hey…” The guard by the tree begins to stir, and then bolts up as he seems to spot them. “Hey! HEY! PRISONER ESCAPING!” 

Zuko curses, is _incredibly_ glad Aang and Katara aren’t here to witness this, and pulls his dao out, slamming both into the guard’s shoulders and pinning him back into the tree trunk. Zuko pulls them back out and whirls around to find Suki and Sokka next to him, and the rest of the guards advancing quickly, pulling on their armor as they come. 

“RUN!” He yells to Sokka and Suki. He sheathes his dao- they’re gonna be absolutely _disgusting_ by the time he has a chance to clean the blood from the leather- and lets out the greatest wave of fire he can manage. The guards yell, taken aback, and the dry underbrush immediately catches flame.

Zuko turns on his heel and sprints. He catches up to Sokka and Suki within a minute, though there are still shouts behind them, and he’s _sure_ there’s the heat of fire on his back. 

“Go, go!” Sokka yells. Something cuts off Yue’s light for a second, and Zuko looks up to see Appa’s underbelly as he flies past. 

“Oh, Tui!” Sokka hisses. “They must have come looking for us!” 

“Good timing?” Suki yells. A blast of fire grazes the top of her hair, and Zuko throws back a wave of flames without looking. There’s a yell of pain, and he knows he hit his target.

They’re coming up to a clearing, and Appa is flying lower and lower. Zuko looks back and sees two guards behind them, at least a couple-hundred feet away. Far enough. He sends three quick blasts of fire up in succession as high as he can, and, thank _Agni_ , they seem to realize. Appa lands in the middle of the clearing, and Katara is already whipping water out of her water-skin. Aang sends a blast of air down and lifts them all up clear off their feet. Zuko lands hard on his shoulder in the middle of the saddle, and hears several grunts of pain next to him. 

Katara lets out a yell as another fire blast goes over the saddle, but by the time Zuko has scrambled up to help, she’s already sent a wave of water down to the two remaining guards and frozen them to their spot. 

“Go, Aang!” Katara yells. Appa lifts off the ground and pulls straight up into the sky. 

Zuko only relaxes his grip on the edge of the saddle when the forest grows into a dark monolith underneath them. Behind him, Sokka’s ragged gasps seem to have turned into hysterical laughs, and when Zuko turns around, he’s got Suki buried in a hug, one arm tight around her shoulders, the other holding her head against his chest.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” He says, his voice rough. “Oh, spirits, Suki, I’m _so_ glad-” 

A splash of freezing water, nearly ice, cuts Sokka off at the same time it hits Zuko square in the face. Zuko wipes it out of his eyes and blinks them open to find Katara standing up to her full height in front of them, hands on her hips and eyes absolutely murderous. 

“Where the _fuck_ did you two go?” She demands. “I’ve been worried _sick!_ You just get up and leave in the middle of the day, and then you _disappear?_ No note, no _nothing?_ Suki, I’m really glad to see you, but _are you all idiots?”_

Toph supplies a resounding “ _Yes!_ ” from where she’s sitting in the back of the saddle with Haru and the kids, at the same time Sokka and Zuko chorus “ _No!”_

“We got tipped off that a prisoner transport coming from the Caldera was going through the woods!” Sokka says indignantly, holding up a placating hand as Katara threatens another water whip. 

“You could have _told_ us!” Aang yells from Appa’s head. 

“We didn’t have time to go back!” Zuko shoots back. “We had to go! What if- what if it was-”  
  


He cuts off, and Katara lowers her water. 

“He wasn’t, though, was he?” She asks. 

Sokka shakes his head, and moves so that one arm is tight around Suki’s shoulders. “No. There wasn’t anyone from the tribe.” 

Katara falls onto the floor of the saddle with a soft _thump_ and closes her water skin. All the anger seems to drain from her shoulders, and she spends a minute or so with her head bowed before she looks back up. 

“Well, at least you found Suki,” Katara smiles, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

Suki rests her head on Sokka’s shoulder. When she meets Zuko’s eyes, they’re bloodshot and swollen. “Thank you for getting me.” She says quietly. Her voice is rough, jagged around the edges, like she hasn’t had anything to drink in days.

Katara immediately gets up to give her drinking water and some dried meat, while Sokka drapes one of their blankets around her trembling shoulders. 

“Where were they taking you?” Zuko asks, when she seems a little more ready to talk. 

“I, uh, don’t really know?” Suki asks. Sokka nudges her hand with the water skin, and she takes another shaking sip. “I was held in a prison near the Caldera with my girls for a couple of months, but then I got singled out as the leader of the warriors, and I guess they were transferring me to a higher-security prison.”

“How long have you been marching?” Sokka asks, though, by the horrified look on his face, he doesn’t really want to know. 

Suki lifts one shoulder. “Uh, a couple of weeks. I think. I don’t really know. I’ve lost track of time.” 

Her chains clank again, and Toph immediately sits straight up. 

  
“Do you still have _cuffs_ on?” She demands.

“Yeah?” Suki says, and Toph crawls over and sits in front of her, making grabby hands. Suki shoots Sokka a confused look, but Sokka nods, so she places her cuffed wrists in Toph’s hands. 

Toph wraps her fingers around the cuffs. The metal deforms and falls off her wrists. Suki gives a little gasp and immediately starts rubbing at the raw skin underneath. 

“On her ankles, too.” Zuko tells Toph, and she does the same to the cuffs that bound her feet together. 

“Hey!” Aang calls from the front of the saddle, pulling back on Appa’s reins. “We’re back at the temple, but uh- now that we have a fugitive, do you think-”

“We can’t stay here.” Zuko calls back. He crawls up to the front and hauls himself over the saddle to sit next to Aang. “They’re gonna start searching all the towns.” 

“But where can we go?” Aang says, frustration leaking into his voice. “The comet is getting so close, we can’t leave the Fire Nation now.” 

  
“No,” Zuko agrees, and thinks about a small island near the Caldera, with a large house by the beach that’s sat abandoned for years, kid’s bathing suits abandoned in the drawers, portraits of families that no longer exist, that maybe _never_ existed. “But I think I know where we can go.” 

* * *

Zuko barely remembers this dusty, abandoned house. They didn’t go after Mom left- died- and he was only ten when that happened. 

Toph breaks the lock on the front door, Aang sends a massive blast of air through the main room to blow out the thick layer of dust that’s settled on everything, and Zuko lights the long-unused torches on the walls. 

“C’mon now, little step.” Sokka says, one arm still tight around Suki’s shoulder as they walk through the door. 

“Sokka, I’m not an _invalid-_ ” Suki grumbles, but she clings to him just as tight.

Haru has the sleeping Duke on one shoulder, and helps Teo back into his chair with his free arm. “The kid’s totally beat.” Haru whispers to Zuko. “Is there somewhere I can put him down?”

“Yeah, uh-” Zuko points down a long, dark hallway. “There should be bedrooms down that way, some more up the stairs. You might want to open the windows.” 

Haru nods and shoots him a grateful look before he disappears down the hallway, Teo trailing after him. 

“Man, this place is depressing.” Toph declares, cracking her knuckles as she tries to suppress a yawn. “Sparky, this was a _vacation_ house? For royalty?” 

“Well, it looked a little better ten years ago.” Zuko rolls his eyes. He turns away, lighting the last wall torch on the back wall. It lights up a large portrait hanging in the middle, and Zuko immediately stills. 

The walls and everything on them are still thick with dust and cobwebs, but Zuko would recognize this portrait if it was nothing but charcoal on paper, smudged and burnt, from a thousand yards away. 

Mom has a demure smile on her face, one hand resting on Azula’s little shoulder. Zuko steps forward and trails his fingers over his little sister’s chubby cheeks, the top-knot she had stubbornly learned to do herself when she was only five, when she decided the servants couldn't do it well enough. Ozai doesn’t have any expression on his face, but the hand resting on Zuko’s shoulder seems to rest heavy, fingers digging in. 

Zuko’s hand stops short of his own face. 

His younger self’s hair is pulled back into a high phoenix tail, and the left side of his wide, innocent face is jarringly smooth and unblemished- simply pale skin that stretches over his cheekbone and ends at a thick and straight hairline. His eye is bright and open wide, and the black iris stands out in contrast to the gold that surrounds it. Zuko feels his breath hitch as he touches the eye- _his_ eye. 

“How old were you?”  
  
Katara’s voice comes from his right. Zuko suppresses a flinch and turns to look at her. She’s staring up at the portrait with an unreadable expression, her arms crossed. 

“Eight or nine, I think.” Zuko says. “It was uh, before Mom died.” 

  
Katara’s eyes are fixed on his younger self’s face. “It’s weird.” She says softly. “I just- as long as you’ve been with us you’ve had your burn. It’s just always been a part of you. It’s weird to…”

“See me without it.” Zuko finishes for her. “Yeah, for me too.” 

They stand in silence for a minute. There’s shuffling of feet above them and distant yelling, as Sokka seems to be attempting to convince Toph and Aang to go to sleep and failing spectacularly. Katara sniffles a little, and Zuko breaks. 

“Katara, I-” 

“Do you know how many times I wrapped that burn, Zuko?” Katara’s voice breaks as she interrupts him, but she doesn’t cry.

Zuko can’t even bear to look at her, keeps his eyes trained on his own painted childishly-soft skin. “A lot.” He answers softly, and hears his sister take a sharp breath. 

“I know- I know I don’t talk about it much, but the raid that took Mom- there were burns. There were a lot of burns.” Katara says. “And they were _awful_ and Mom was gone, so Gran-Gran needed help, so I helped. The smell of it,” Katara swallows thickly, and Zuko knows intimately well what she is referring to. “It never really leaves you, you know? But everyone healed. Everyone healed, and the raids never started again, and I thought, _at least I never have to see what fire can do again._ And then you showed up. With half of your face nothing but blood and ash and the _smell-_ “ 

Katara cuts off and stills besides him. 

“I’m sorry.” Zuko offers, though it seems so small, so infinitesimally unworthy a platitude to offer in the face of Katara’s mountainous pain. 

“Don’t apologize. Don’t you dare apologize.” Katara says, her voice steeled. “It wasn’t your fault. You were a kid. You were a kid, and your dad- he, he-“ 

“It was called an Agni Kai.” Zuko says quietly. “They’re usually done in front of a crowd. I don’t- I don’t remember much. I refused to fight him- I was just a kid, I was younger than Aang, I think- and he put his hand on my face, and well... I don’t remember anything after that.” 

“I’m so sorry.” Katara wraps her arms around her stomach. “Zuko, you told me something _awful,_ and I made it about me.” 

“No, you didn’t.” Zuko says firmly. “I shouldn’t have told you like that. I thought you knew, but even if you did- I scared you.” 

“You didn’t _scare_ me, Zuko.” Katara sniffles again. “You terrified me. He does this to you, and you still confront him, so that he can try and kill you again? Azula shoots lightning at you, tries to kill Aang, and you defend her to everyone that asks? Sometimes- sometimes it feels like you’re trying to get killed again.”

“I swear to Tui that I’m not! Katara, she’s my-”

“I know, I know, I know.” Katara shoves her hands over her eyes. “She’s your sister. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around it for weeks. I tried to imagine that it was Sokka, would I want to try and save him, but even that didn’t help, because Sokka-”

“-wouldn’t ever hurt you,” Zuko says, and Katara nods. 

“Dad never has. Mom _never_ did. For years, all the Fire Nation was to me was like, this absolutely evil force that did nothing but take, and take, and _take_. I hated you all. And then you came, and I thought, maybe you’re just the exception. You’d been hurt by them too, so you were the exception, not the rule. I didn’t want to- I _still_ don’t want to- think of Azula as anything other than evil. I didn’t want to think of any of them as human, because they didn’t deserve to be seen that way. Even now, with what you told me about her, I still- I can’t forgive her, Zuko.” 

“I’m not asking you to.” Zuko says. “You don’t ever have to. All I’m asking you is to understand that I can’t just- I can’t take her down the way we have to take down Ozai. Not if there’s even a _chance_ that she wants something else. That’s all.” 

  
Katara stares up at the portrait, and Zuko follows her sightline to Azula’s chubby cheeks, the small smile on her baby-lips.

“Okay.” Katara whispers. “I can do that, I think. But Zuko- if she tries to hurt you, or Sokka, or Aang, or anyone else- I’m not gonna hold back.” 

“Don’t.” Zuko agrees, and wraps his sister in a tight hug. “I want you safe just as much as I want her safe. I’m gonna keep you all safe.”

“You can’t promise that.” Katara pushes away from him, turning away. 

“I will.” Zuko says, and knows it to be true. “Katara, I will.” 

He would rather kneel in front of his father and turn his other cheek as sacrifice than allow anyone in this house to get hurt. 

* * *

  
Everyone looks slightly more alive the next morning. Zuko lets Aang off after a sunrise meditation and running through a few more advanced katas, and they return to the main room to find Toph laying splayed out on the floor, hair absolutely tangled above her head. The Duke is chattering to her animatedly about a game he and Teo invented as he attempts to braid it, and Toph seems content to make the appropriately interested noises every few minutes and doze as he does. 

Suki is dressed in some red robes Zuko can only guess Sokka dug out of storage for her, though they’re too big, and she smiles as they come in. The hands holding her bowl of porridge are shaking far less than they did yesterday. 

Aang flops down in front of Katara with pleading eyes, who only rolls her own in return and adds a little bit of sugar to his bowl. Zuko, for his part, takes Toph’s example and lays flat on the cool stone floor by Sokka and Suki, hoping a small amount of the heat that’s made its home all the way in his bones leaches out. 

Agni. He really forgot how hot it gets here in the summer. 

“You smell disgusting.” Sokka notes, shoving him away with his foot. 

“I had to _practice_ ,” Zuko grumbles. “I’ll wash up after I eat, you lazy lump.” 

Sokka makes an affronted noise. “Who’re you calling lazy-”

“I got up at sunrise, Sokka.” 

“...Point taken.” 

Katara hands him a bowl of porridge, and Zuko sits up to eat, giving her a nod of thanks that she returns before going back to sit by Aang. 

“So, I’m taking it you two talked?” Sokka asks as Katara even grins at Haru’s stupid joke. 

“Yeah, we did. Last night.” Zuko says. 

“Ooh, what’d you do?” Suki raises her eyebrows. “C’mon, I’ve been in prison for _months_ while you guys got to do cool stuff- tell me.” 

“It’s not exactly interesting.” Zuko picks at his porridge. “I just, uh, told her how I got my scar, and I wasn’t really nice about it, and it was a whole thing.” 

“Oh.” Suki says. She looks down at her own bowl and Sokka nudges her arm again. She takes a bite. 

Zuko tilts his head at her. “You’re not gonna ask how I got it?” 

“I, uh, sort of don’t need to?” Suki looks half-apologetic. “I already know.” 

“Oh.” Zuko looks away. “Uh, who told you?” 

“When I was in prison, there were these two girls. They were friends of the princess- your sister, I guess, huh?” Suki gives a dry chuckle, and Zuko puts down his bowl as visions of little girls with twin buns and high braids and utterly opposite in everything except their loyalty to his sister flash across his eyes. 

“Mai and Ty Lee.” He says quietly. “I didn’t- did my sister imprison them?” 

“No, if you’ll believe that. They wouldn’t say much about how they landed in the prison, but from everything I could gather- it was to control the Princess.” 

“Oh.” Zuko repeats. 

So he was right. Azula was-  
Azula is. 

Azula isn’t their father. 

“Did they say anything about her, at all?” Zuko forces himself to look up as he asks it, but Suki shakes her head, tight-lipped. 

“Seemed to be a sore subject for them. But, they did tell me something else.” Suki looks over at Katara and Aang across the room. “Something I need to tell all of you.” 

* * *

“The entire Earth Kingdom.” Toph repeats. “All those people.” 

“I knew Ozai was evil, but I just-” Katara buries her head in her hands, and Sokka squeezes her shoulder. “He wants to kill an entire country.” 

“I can’t say I’m surprised.” Zuko says. His stomach feels oddly hollow, though he’s just eaten breakfast. “But how are we supposed to stop him?”

“Together.” Aang says firmly. “That’s the only way to do this.” 

Zuko doesn’t want to say it. But Aang’s tone is too optimistic, and he knows what he’s thinking. So Zuko takes a deep breath, hates himself, opens his eyes, and says, “Aang, you’re going to have to kill him.” 

Aang’s eyes grow wide and he takes a sharp breath. “Zuko, I, I-” 

“I know.” Zuko interrupts. “Aang, I know, and I’m sorry, and if I can do it for you, I _will._ But my father is a very powerful bender, and I don’t think that I can take him. You need to listen to me. You can’t leave him alive. He’s not like you, he’s not like any of us- he doesn’t _care_ , okay? He doesn’t care that you’re a kid, he doesn’t care about any of the lives he’s destroyed. You can’t change his mind. _You have to kill him._ ” 

Aang’s eyes are rapidly becoming shiny, and before Zuko can reach out, he jumps up and darts out of the room on a gust of air. Zuko immediately scrambles up to follow him, but Sokka grabs his shoulder. 

  
“Let him go.” Sokka says. “He needs to think. But Zuko, if he can’t do it-” 

Sokka doesn’t finish his sentence, but there’s a resigned look in his eyes that Zuko understands far too well. He claps his brother’s forearm and nods. 

  
“Yeah.” He confirms. “We will.” 

* * *

The days pass by in a stifling haze. The sun rises, the sun sets, they get one day closer to the comet, and the energy in the house grows heavier. 

Suki gets stronger, and by the second week on the island, she begins practicing again, rising with Zuko to run through her katas, even sans fans. Sokka begins drawing up plans for the day of the comet, staying up well into the night to hunch over plans, yet again. Toph is, well, Toph. She begins teaching Haru how to metal-bend, as well as she can, and goes back to her job of ribbing everyone else when she’s not.  
  


Aang withdraws. 

Katara tries everything- making his favorite food, asking if he wants to ice-surfing, even dragging him to the local theater- though, Zuko is pretty sure that particular field trip probably made it worse. 

Zuko tries to help, too. He doesn’t overcorrect Aang’s form during morning practice, lets him sleep in when they’re supposed to be meditating together, and even now- taking his empty bowl out of his lax hands during dinner and nudging him towards the bedrooms, the night before they’re supposed to leave the island. Suki had said the troops were meant to be gathering at the edge of the Earth Kingdom, and it’ll take a while to get there. 

  
“Get some rest,” he says. “I’ll clean up.” 

“It’s my turn tonight, Zuko.” Aang rubs at his eyes with his fists and shakes his head. 

“Get some rest.” Zuko repeats, and shoves Aang a little harder this time towards the stairs. 

Aang scowls but gets up and disappears up the dark stairs without any more arguments. Katara’s face is almost unreadable as she follows Zuko into the kitchen with the rest of the dishes and bends water into the sink. 

“Do you-” Katara starts, and then clamps her mouth shut. Zuko heats the freezing water and grabs another dish, just waiting. Katara’s head drops. 

“The comet.” She says. “Do you think- do you think we’ll win?” 

“I think we don’t have a choice.” Zuko says. The water begins to steam, and Katara pulls her hands out, hissing. Zuko shoots her an apologetic look and withdraws his hands from the water. 

“But if we don’t-”

“We will.” Zuko says firmly. “We have to.” 

Katara’s shoulders slump over the sink, but she doesn’t argue with him. 

* * *

He doesn’t sleep much that night. Granted, he hasn’t slept much at all, since they’ve arrived on the island, but this feels excessive. 

On his third hour of tossing and turning, Teo snoring in his left ear and Toph snoring much louder in his right, Zuko calls it quits. He shoves off his blankets and steps over Toph, lighting a small fire as he makes his way down the dark hallway. He stops outside a deep red door. No one’s using it to sleep in- most of them are piled into one room, anyways. Only Sokka and Suki have a separate room, and Katara’s been up so late practicing, recently, Zuko’s not sure where she’s sleeping, if she is at all. 

His hand rests on the doorknob, and he has to take a deep breath before he turns it. 

It’s a child’s room. 

He knows this, because he remembers hanging upside down from the canopy, Azula attempting to light the ends of his phoenix tail on fire. 

He knows this, because he remembers digging through these drawers to find something to swim in while Lu Ten hollers at him from the bottom of the stairs to hurry up. 

He knows this, because he remembers Mom pulling the dusty, long-unused sheets covering the small bed over his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his forehead, whispering “Good night, sunshine _,”_ before she blew out his candles and shut the door quietly. 

This is a child’s room. It used to be his room. 

It feels so often as though that child- Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, with sleek phoenix tails and stifling red robes- and the boy staring at him from the mirror hanging of the dresser, with rough skin over half of his face, beads braided into his black and golden hair, his blue tunic- are two separate entities. 

As though before-Zuko died, and now-Zuko was resurrected, and there are no similarities between them. 

Except. Except- now-Zuko remembers picking up the sun-bleached shells that are piled on the bedside table, Mom’s hand on his shoulder. He remembers thundering down those stairs for breakfast, and then immediately quieting his steps when he was informed that Ozai had arrived sometime the night before. He remembers when Mom left, and the trips stopped, he remembers standing up in that meeting, Uncle’s panicked look, Ozai’s cool fury, he remembers, he remembers-

He remembers everything. 

Zuko sits in the middle dusty carpet, pulls his knees to his chest, and Zuko weeps. 

* * *

“Zuko.” 

  
Someone is shaking his shoulder. Zuko groans and moves away, but whoever it is just shakes harder. He’s utterly exhausted, and unless someone’s dead or missing, he _really_ doesn’t want to be woken-

“ _Zuko!_ ” 

“Wha- what?” 

Zuko throws his eyes open and glares, but it’s Sokka’s face swimming above him, and he looks- he looks terrified. 

Zuko immediately sits up, ignoring how his head swims. “What happened?” 

“Aang’s missing.” Sokka says. “No one knows where he is.” 

* * *

He’s nowhere in the house. He’s nowhere on the beach. Sokka and Zuko take off on Appa to search the island, while the girls head to the market, and Haru takes the Duke to check the nearby forest and Teo waits at the house to see if he’ll return. 

But he’s on none of the high points of the island, there aren’t any blurs of orange and red scrambling up the volcanoes of the nearby islands, and judging by the dejected looks of everyone as they land back in the courtyard, he hasn’t been found anywhere else, either. 

“I mean, Aang disappearing right before a big battle? He’s probably on a spirit world journey!” Toph theorizes. 

“Even if he is- what are we going to do now? None of us can take Ozai, especially not with the comet.” Zuko says frustratedly.

“Your firebending is gonna be enhanced too, Zuko,” Suki says. 

“Doesn’t matter.” Zuko shakes his head. “I’m not a match for him. There’s maybe two people in the world who would be able to take him, and I’m not one of them.” 

“Well, who is?” Katara asks impatiently. 

“Azula, for one, but there’s no way!” Zuko throws his hands up. “She’s either on lockdown or she’s still loyal to our father, and either of those options aren’t gonna work for us, so-” 

“Who’s the second?” Sokka interrupts, one eyebrow raised. 

“Uncle, I guess?” Zuko stares at his brother. “But he’s- he’s-” 

“Outside of Ba Sing Se.” Sokka says. “Calling a council of the Elders of the White Lotus. Luckily for us-” Sokka digs into his pockets and produces his tile, flipping it between his fingers. “I’ve got an invite to White Lotus meetings.” 

* * *

Zuko convinces Haru to stay with the younger kids on the island, but just barely. Haru clearly has fire in his veins, but Zuko’s throat is already closing up at the thought of Toph, Aang, and Katara being exposed to what’s coming. He’s not going to subject Teo and the Duke to it, if he can help it at all. 

Appa flies through the day and night like a champ, passing over miles and miles of green, lush, Earth Kingdom land. Zuko stares at the tops of the trees and tries to imagine it all razed to the ground. His throat closes, and he closes his eyes, instead. 

They take turns at the reins, and Zuko has just gotten off his turn, the destroyed walls of Ba Sing Se vaguely dark on the horizon, and laid down to pretend to sleep, when there’s a _whoosh_ of a large object careening by Appa’s side, Suki gasps, and Toph yells: 

“Was that a _rock?_ ” 

Zuko scrambles up and over the saddle. A hundred-feet down, white-clad figures are standing. Fire lights up the hand of one figure, rock on the fist of another, water above the head of yet another.

“That has to be-” 

“It’s them!” Sokka yells. “C’mon Katara, land!” 

* * *

“A _boulder,_ Bumi?” Sokka yells as he throws himself over the saddle. “You could have killed us!” 

“I had to get your attention somehow!” Bumi yells back, waving his arms. “Would you have preferred fire?” 

Zuko rolls his eyes as he helps Toph down from the saddle.

  
“I could have arranged for that.” Jeong Jeong pulls his hood down, and inclines his head towards Zuko. “Prince Zuko.” 

“Admiral Jeong Jeong.” Zuko makes the sign of the flame, and Jeong Jeong doesn’t _smile_ , per se, but his eyes crinkle slightly. 

“I’m happy to see you all in one piece.” Piandao says, and Sokka is quick to throw his arms around his master. “Your uncle will finally shut up about you.” 

“So he’s here?” Zuko asks.

“He is.” Pakku confirms. “I'm sure you’re anxious to see him.” 

“I’m sorry, hold on, hold on- you guys know all these old people?” Toph puts her hands on her hips. 

“We do! They’re all old masters of ours!” Katara bows to Pakku. 

“A bow to a master is respectul,” Pakku says. “But how about a hug for your new grandfather?” 

Katara gasps and immediately returns Pakku’s hug, but Sokka hangs back as the elders then lead them into the small camp they’ve hidden behind some boulders. 

  
“Pakku. And Gran-gran.” Sokka whispers as Katara chatters to Pakku about the Tribe and the rebuilding efforts going on. “Honestly, I could not have-” 

“Do you think he’s like, got her under a spell or something?” Zuko whispers back, and then immediately has the breath removed forcibly from his lungs as Suki throws her elbows into both of their stomachs. 

  
“Why can’t you two be _respectful_?” She asks crossly. 

“He’s a jerk!” Sokka wheezes out. 

“He’s your grandpa!”

“ _Jerk_ grandpa.” Zuko adds, and Suki raises an elbow threateningly. 

“Prince Zuko.” Piandao interrupts, and points down the road at an inconspicuous white tent with the flaps down. “Your uncle’s tent is the one at the very end.” 

Zuko stops in his tracks, and Suki lays a hand on his arm. 

“Are you okay?” She asks kindly. 

Zuko shakes his head. “I- I left him behind. I’m the reason he was captured.” 

“Zuko, it wasn’t your fault. There’s no way he’s mad at you for that.” Sokka nudges his shoulder.  
“You don’t know that!” Zuko says. “Maybe he hates me.”  
“Maybe.” Sokka concedes. “But I really, really doubt it.” 

“Just go talk to him! It’ll be okay.“ Suki gives him a little shove down the road. 

Zuko, somehow, very sincerely doubts that, but Iroh is the only one who could conceivably take Ozai. 

He has no choice. 

* * *

Zuko stares at the white flaps, takes a deep breath, down to the bottoms of his lungs, and steps through the entrance. 

It’s lit dimly with candles. Two men are standing by a table, a scroll held between them. One turns as Zuko comes in, and a wide smile breaks across his face. 

“Zuko.” Uncle breathes. “I am _so_ happy to see you.” 

* * *

Zuko feels like he’s in a trance of some sort as Uncle dismisses the man he was talking to, ushers Zuko to a small table, and pours him a cup of tea.

“Are you alright?” Uncle frowns. “You’ve barely touched your cup. Is everything well?” 

“Is everything-” Zuko stares at Iroh. He looks leaner. Not by a lot, but certainly enough that he must have lost weight in prison. His hair is pulled back into a neat top-knot, bounded by a gold and blue band. His robes are clean and pressed, navy blue and white. Zuko, with his unwashed braid and worn tunic, feels utterly inferior in comparison. “Nothing is well, Uncle! The comet is in two days, and Aang is missing, and I’m meant to take down Ozai _and_ Azula, and stop Ozai from destroying the Earth Kingdom, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, and you- you- _why aren’t you furious with me?_ ” 

Zuko digs his nails into his thighs and ducks his head, trying to steady his erratic breathing before the torches on the wall catch the fabric aflame. A steady hand comes to rest on his shoulder, and when Zuko drags his head up, Uncle is kneeling in front of him, and his eyes reflect shiny in the firelight. 

“I know that you’re worried about the comet, and Zuko, I assure you, I have been preparing for it. I will tell you everything we’ve been doing to stop my brother, I promise. But first, I must ask: how could I _possibly_ be furious with you?” Uncle asks softly. 

“I- you- I left you in the caverns.” Zuko stammers out. “I didn’t trust you. I let you get taken prisoner.” 

“Zuko, if I was you, I wouldn’t have trusted me either. I _told_ you to leave me.” Uncle says. “And you nearly died.” 

“But- but, if I was _better_ , if I knew what I was doing, then maybe I, maybe I would have-” 

Zuko’s breath is coming quick and stuttered, his chest constricting, and oh _spirits_ , this hasn’t happened in _months_ , and Katara and Sokka aren’t in here, Hakoda isn’t here, because he’s in _prison_ \- 

Uncle wraps his arms around him and holds him tight, and his chest hurts _so bad_ , but he can’t help but feel as though he’s ten again, and Uncle is comforting him after a bad day. So he drops his head onto Uncle’s shoulder, lets him whisper quiet, soothing things to him and run his hand across his shoulders. After his breathing calms and the tent is no longer in danger of being burnt to the ground, Zuko pulls away and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, wiping the tears away. 

Uncle’s eyes are nearly as red as his own feel. 

“I’m not angry with you. Not at all. You did everything you possibly could to survive an impossibly dangerous situation, as you’ve been doing all your life.” Uncle’s face looks sadder, if that’s at all possible. “It is a heavy weight that I carry, and it’s with a heavier heart that I ask you to take on an equally heavy burden, my nephew.”  
“Uncle?” Zuko says hoarsely. 

“Zuko.” Uncle takes a deep breath. “What comes after the comet? After Ozai is defeated?”  
“I- I don’t know.” Zuko admits. He hasn’t let himself think this far ahead. To survive the coming twenty-four hours, and ensure everyone else did too, has been his only constant goal since they left the Southern Water Tribe all those months ago. 

“Someone needs to take the Dragon throne.” Uncle says, and Zuko’s heart begins pounding in his chest. 

“Uncle, it has to be you-” 

“No.” Uncle’s expression is impossibly heavy. “Zuko, I know you were only a child when you were taken from us, but do you know the other name I was known by, before my son passed?” 

“The Dragon of the West.” 

“Do you know how I got that name?” 

“I- you were in the military-”  
  


He was taught the name in the South. But Kanna had refused to go into specifics, even when Sokka pleaded and whined and begged. 

“I sieged Ba Sing Se for six-hundred days. I cost countless soldiers their lives, countless families their brothers, their fathers, their sons. It wasn’t until I lost my own,” Uncle’s voice cracks. “that I began to understand the pointlessness of the war I was waging. And it wasn’t until I lost my second son, as well, that I began to do something about it.” 

“Uncle?” Zuko whispers. 

“Zuko.” Uncle shakes his head. “What happened to you that day is my greatest regret. But seeing you now, a strong young man who cares so utterly and deeply for those around him, it only confirms what I already knew.” 

Uncle gets up and rummages in a chest, and returns with an object wrapped in cloth. He sets in front of Zuko, and nods at him to unwrap it, which he does with shaking hands. 

It’s a hair-piece. Gold wings flare up, their tips pointing towards the sun, intricately etched. The Royal Flame is marked on the inside of the band, and Zuko feels wrong, even touching it. 

“What- what is this?” 

“The Crown Prince’s hair-piece.” Uncle says. “It used to be your great-grandfather, Sozin’s” 

“Sozin-?” 

“Who gave it to your other great-grandfather, Roku.” 

“No. No,” Zuko shoves it away. “Roku was an _Avatar-_ that can’t be right-” 

“It is right.” Uncle says firmly. “Roku’s blood mixes golden with the dragon’s blood running through your veins, Zuko. I was given this by your mother, and I meant to give it to you. And then you were lost to me, and my only goals were to keep your sister from meeting the same fate, and to stop your father from destroying the world in his quest for power. 

But destiny truly has a way of working out in unexpected ways, and when I saw you for the first time in the Northern Water Tribe, with gold in your hair, the gold in your eyes, I knew that greater forces were at work than my mere, trivial plans to take down Ozai and assume the throne myself. Zuko, you are the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation by succession, and thus you have a birthright to the throne. But I am not sure your birthright is your only claim to the throne anymore.” 

“Uncle.” Zuko’s mouth is dry. His heart is pounding a panicked beat in his ears. 

Uncle takes a deep breath and looks him dead in the eyes. 

“Zuko, when the time comes, Agni seems to have ordained that you, and only you, can ascend to the Dragon Throne.” 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god i have so much art to link. im hoping this works. if you sent me art and i missed it, please dm me!! i'll link it!!
> 
> https://spookiestarts.tumblr.com/post/631426195612909568/hes-embroidering  
> THESE INCREDIBLE SKETCHES OF ZUKO EMBROIDERING BC THIS IS IN FACT THE ZUKO EMBROIDERS CINEMATIC UNIVERSE
> 
> https://heatherica45.tumblr.com/post/630370110865080320/this-little-comic-is-for-the-amazing-avatar-the  
> this AMAZING comic about Zuko and Agni from the prologue
> 
> https://spookiestarts.tumblr.com/post/630988159919996929/apparently-this-didnt-upload-last-time-or-the  
> and another beautiful comic about the MANY times Zuko wakes up from a coma/ being dead
> 
> incredible. amazing. showstopping. i love all of u. take care of urself and don't refresh the electoral maps every 5 seconds


	13. Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Final Agni Kai.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello and welcome to the penultimate chapter of suns!!
> 
> The alternate title for this chapter was Blessed are the Peacemakers, which i loved, but didnt keep for the sake of symmetry :)
> 
> Im gonna save my teary goodbyes for the epilogue, so no notes here, except a huge thank you to my lovely beta reader @agentcalliope (tumblr and ao3)

Uncle tries to be quiet when he rises for sunrise meditation the next morning, but Zuko’s already awake, so he gets up with him, fully intending to at least _try_ and quiet his utterly crowded mind before running through his forms. 

And then he sees Toph, hunched over the fire pit, spark rocks in hand. 

“I’ll catch up to you,” he tells Uncle, who nods at him. 

“Of course.” Uncle says. “Take as much time as you need.” 

Zuko kneels down next to her, taking the spark rocks from her hands. 

“Need some help?” He asks, and Toph seems to jump, though she disguises it well. 

“What, you think I can’t light a fire because I’m _blind_?” She asks crossly. 

“No, I think you can’t light the fire because it rained last night, and the wood’s wet.” Zuko raises an eyebrow.

“Oh.” Toph sits back. “Uh, well, then, yes, I do need help.” 

  
Zuko leans forward, heating the logs until the water within the wood steams out, curling up until it disappears into the early morning fog. He shoots a quick flame into the middle as Toph scoots closer to it’s building warmth. 

“Why are you up so early?” Zuko nudges her shoulder. 

“Maybe I felt like seeing what all the fuss was about with getting up before dawn.” Toph throws her head back, unseeing eyes staring up into the cloudy sky. “Wow, so pretty! Such a nice sunrise!” 

“Toph.” Zuko says, and Toph settles her arms back around her knees. 

She’s silent for a long moment. Zuko tends to the fire and puts on a kettle for Uncle. He’s about to take it off when she finally speaks up. 

“I didn’t sleep well.” She mumbles into her knees. 

“Me either.” Zuko says. 

“I just- I’m scared, I guess.” Toph’s voice cracks. Zuko puts down the kettle and places his hands, which have started to shake slightly, tight on top of his thighs. 

“Me too.” Zuko says softly. 

“Do you think Aang’s okay?” Toph asks. 

“I think- I think-” Zuko thinks that Aang is only twelve, and when Zuko was twelve, he only found out how terrifying and unfair the world was through trial by fire. Zuko thinks Aang ran, because no twelve-year-old should have the fate of the world resting on his shoulders, and while he _gets_ it, that doesn’t stop him from being angry at Aang. For leaving all of this to them. For disappearing. Zuko takes a deep breath, counts to five, and lets it out. “I think Aang can take care of himself.” 

“Yeah.” Toph rests her chin on her knee, and her hands are so small, wrapped around each other. _She’s_ so small. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Toph.” Zuko tries for a smile, sure that Toph can see right through to the way his heart has begun to anxiously beat rapidly under his ribs. 

But maybe Toph is grasping for any thin sliver of hope, any rope to hold onto as they dangle over this deep and dark precipice of uncertainty, no matter how tenuous it is, because she smiles back and bumps his shoulder. 

“ ‘Course it is!” She scoffs. “You have the greatest earthbender in the world in this camp!” 

“Oh, you mean Bumi?” Zuko asks innocently, and feels much better when Toph lands a hard uppercut to his bicep. He yelps accordingly and rubs his arm as Toph raises a rock threateningly. 

“You, you, I _obviously_ meant you,” He grumbles, and Toph drops the rock. 

“There we go,” She says imperiously. “Now go join Uncle for meditation. I’ll finish making tea.” 

“Do you even know _how_ to make tea-” 

“Better than you do, spark rocks. Go.” 

* * *

Uncle doesn’t waste time. While they’re still eating breakfast in the main tent of the camp, he rolls out a large world map and Jeong Jeong dumps out several Pai Sho tiles on top. 

“Now, children, I’ve heard that you already know of the comet coming tomorrow morning, and what my brother means to do,” Uncle says as he organizes the tiles. 

“We do.” Sokka confirms, squeezing Suki’s shoulder next to him. “We just, uh, don’t know what to do now that we’ve lost Aang.” 

“I wouldn’t worry so much about the young Avatar.” Uncle says. “The demands of the spirit world are not like the demands of ours, nor does time pass in the same fashion. Avatar Aang will be where he needs to.” 

Sokka raises an eyebrow at Zuko, who shrugs in return. 

“So, what do we do now?” Katara asks. 

“As far as we know, three events need to take place tomorrow,” Piandao says, holding up three fingers. “The liberation of Ba Sing Se, stopping the airfleet- where Ozai will be- and taking the Palace.” 

“Ba Sing Se will fall under my purview.” Iroh moves a White Lotus tile to Ba Sing Se on the map. “I spent so long trying to capture it; it seems fitting that my penance would include freeing it.” 

“And the airfleet?” Toph speaks up. Her knuckles are white, nails digging into her palm, and Zuko remembers a moment too late that Gaoling is not too terribly far from where the ships will be taking off. 

“Ah, yes,” Iroh nods gravely. He moves several pieces- a rock, boat piece, and a chrysanthemum- to the airship island. “This is where you all come in.” 

“Iroh has spent the past four years building a network in the Fire Nation.” Jeong Jeong says. “From the Palace, civilians, other resistance groups, to the military.” 

“We’ve met so many of them.” Katara says. “That’s amazing! How did you manage to do that without getting caught?” 

“No one suspects an old man playing Pai Sho.” Iroh says, grinning widely. 

“More should, perhaps. Your skills are suspect, at best.” Piandao says, and Zuko tries and fails to hold in a snicker. 

“The minute this is all over, my dear old friend,” Iroh says haughtily. “You and I are going round and round.” 

“And I’ll kick your ass every time.” Piandao snorts. “Now, the plan, perhaps?” 

“Right, yes. What I was building to, before I was so rudely interrupted, was that we’ve acquired contacts in every level of the military- including those who are stationed on the air ships bound for the Earth Kingdom right now. While there is a plan in place to sabotage the ships before they ever reach the shores, they certainly could use help. Toph, Suki, Sokka- you’ll be heading to intercept the ships. I’ll explain in detail later, but you’ll meet up with one of my contacts before the ships take off.” 

“Right.” Sokka nods, face grim. “We won’t let you down.” 

“No, you won’t.” Piandao says, and something like pride passes over his face, and Zuko suddenly misses Hakoda with a sharp, unbidden pain between his ribs, as though someone’s slid a blade between his bone and directly into heart and nerve and sinew. 

“And what- what about the Palace?” Zuko manages to ask. “Uncle? What about Azula?” 

Uncle places a jasmine piece, a boat piece, and a rose on the Caldera. 

“I don’t know much of what is happening with your sister.” He admits quietly, fingers ghosting over the rose. “My contacts seem to have fled the Palace. What I know is this- your father has crowned himself the Phoenix King, and seems to intend to yield the title of Fire Lord to Azula, but my contacts were conflicted on whether it would actually happen.” 

“Why?” 

Iroh shakes his head. “Your sister- she did something that made your father terribly angry. The palace has not been safe, lately. That’s all that I know.” 

“Something like-” Zuko clears his throat, which has gone dry, all of a sudden. “Something like saving my life during the invasion?” 

“She did what?” Uncle asks hoarsely. 

“Ozai shot lightning at Zuko.” Toph says. “Azula redirected it.” 

Uncle is silent for a long moment, his head bowed. When he looks back up, his eyes are shiny, but his expression is determined. 

“Zuko, what we talked about last night still stands. You _must_ assume the Dragon Throne. But your sister- if your sister is at _all_ willing to stand down-”  
“We’ll do everything we can.” Katara says firmly. “We’re not losing anyone else.” 

Zuko shoots his sister a grateful look, and tries to keep the growing static in his head at bay as Uncle launches into a lengthy explanation of the plan for the air ships. 

The Dragon Throne. 

He has to ascend to the Dragon Throne. 

* * *

The camp is broken down around them as three siblings from the Southern Water Tribe sit by a fire, and prepare for battle together one last time.

Katara braids Sokka’s longer hair, and Sokka carefully paints a black crescent moon onto her forehead. Zuko sits quietly, the hair-piece in his lap, as Katara finishes off Sokka’s braid. 

“What’s that, Zuko?” She takes Sokka’s hair-tie out of her mouth and begins to wrap it around his wolf’s tail. 

“It’s, uh, the Crown Prince’s hair-piece.” Zuko says quietly, thumb running over the intricate wings. “It used to be Avatar Roku’s. Iroh gave it to me.” 

“Roku’s?” Sokka asks. “How did Iroh end up with it?” 

“Roku was my great-grandfather. He passed it down to his son, who passed it down to my mom. My mom gave it to Iroh.” 

“Hm.” Katara sits down front of him, nose wrinkled up, as she always does when she’s thinking. 

“What?” Zuko asks. 

“I was just thinking,” She holds out his beads, taken out from his braids this morning. “How we could put in the hair-piece, and keep your beads in.” 

Zuko offers his sister a small, warm smile, and holds out the hair-piece to her. 

She’s careful as she does it. She makes sure the blues and purples and reds of his beads are secure in his hair, and weaves them into winding braids before pulling half of his hair into a bun on top of his head. She secures the hair-piece around it, and Sokka makes a face at him. 

“What? Does it look stupid?" Zuko’s hand flies up to the heavy topknot. “I _knew_ it would look stupid-” 

“It doesn’t look stupid,” Sokka interrupts. “You just look like an actual _prince_ , and it’s annoying me.” 

“It’s annoying you.” Zuko repeats. 

“You two spent _so_ long making fun of me for calling myself a prince, and now you’re a _real_ prince.”  
“Technically, he’s always been a real prince, Sokka.” Katara points out, and Sokka scowls harder. 

“That just makes it so much worse! I’ve been brothers with _royalty_ for four years.” 

“That’s rough, buddy.” Zuko says faux-sympathetically, reaching over to pat his brother’s shoulder. “But, think of it this way: what do brothers of princes usually get called?” 

Sokka blinks. “...Prince?” 

“Got it in one.” 

“Oh spirits.” Sokka buries his face in his hands. “You’re telling me- I’ve been a prince this entire time too?” 

“Unfortunately.” Zuko says gravely, and Katara giggles. Sokka falls back onto the grass, hands over his face. 

“I should have left you on the ice.” He groans. “Saved us _so_ much trouble.” 

  
Zuko lightly kicks his shoulder. “Numbskull.”

Sokka removes his hands to shoot him a small smile. “Icehead.” He says, and holds out a hand for Zuko to pull him up. He knocks his forehead against Zuko’s, then pulls Katara tight to both of them. “Be safe, you two. Stay safe. Watch each other’s backs.” 

“Okay, Dad.” Katara teases, but holds on tighter. “You too, Sokka.” 

“I’ll see you on the other side.” Zuko says, and grips his brother’s shoulder. “Stay safe.” 

“I will,” Sokka promises, and maybe Zuko is making it up, wanting to hear things, but it doesn’t sound quite as empty as all the platitudes the men gave when they left boarded the ships for a war some of them would never return from. 

* * *

  
  


Sokka, Toph, and Suki take off for the islands, Iroh and the White Lotus to Ba Sing Se, and Zuko guides Appa over deep, dark water towards the Caldera. 

  
A dull buzzing that began in the base of his skull when they took off has crept up to his ears, becoming more shrill, more emergent, by the time Katara takes the reins out of his hands and tells him to go rest in the saddle. 

“You’ll need your energy,” She says, her knuckles white around the reins. “For when you…” 

She trails off, her head ducking down. Zuko’s stomach turns over. 

“Yeah,” He rasps out, and doesn’t bother adding a useless platitude to reassure his sister. He leans against the edge of the saddle, crosses his arms tight against his stomach, and tilts his head up to watch the sky darken, feel the air thicken with tension, electric energy just waiting to be discharged. 

* * *

By the time they land in one of the outer courtyards of the palace, the sky has darkened to a charcoal black with broken streaks of fiery red, glowing yellows. 

“It looks so empty. Where is everyone?” Katara asks softly, looking around the abandoned gardens as she makes sure her water skins are full and closed tight, and Zuko straps his dao securely in their sheath. 

“Well, if Uncle’s right, it’s Azula’s coronation day,” Zuko says grimly, giving Appa’s nose one final pat before they start towards the inner courtyard. “They’ve most likely been ordered to attend, or they’re helping burn the Earth Kingdom to the ground.” 

“That’s not going to happen, Zuko.” Katara says as they round a corner into a large stone corridor. Zuko knows what’s at the end of it, and suddenly, realizes that the buzzing in his ears has disappeared. 

All he knows is that he has to protect his sisters. And that he’ll do whatever he has to. 

He hears the Crier before he sees them, and suddenly, he’s twelve again, and he’s kneeling ten feet away from his father without knowing it, prayer shawl secure around his shoulders, as the rules of the Agni Kai are announced. But then Katara whispers, 

“Zuko _, look,”_

And Zuko rips his head up to find a very different scene in the courtyard before him than the one he’s been imagining. 

There are no throngs of people crowding around the dais, no high court on the upper levels to look down on everyone else, no decorative red and gold banners-

There is only Azula, kneeling on the stone with her head bowed, her hair choppy and half-way loose, her robes in disarray, and a Fire Sage standing behind her, about to place a golden flame on her head. 

“Katara,” Zuko whispers, gripping his sister’s wrist for a moment, before pushing her back into the corridor. “Stay back.” 

“Zuko-!” 

But Zuko’s already strode out into the courtyard in full view, shoulders straight and set, the clouds parting above him and the darkness abating. 

“Azula!” He yells, dropping his dao on the ground, his boomerang on top. “Azula, you don’t have to do this!” 

Azula lifts her head and meets his eyes. Zuko stops in his tracks, bile rising in his throat. Even from where he is, at least thirty feet away, he can make out a burn wrapped around her throat- dark, mottled, stretching out to five points by her collarbone, her windpipe, her chin, deeper, darker in small circles at the ends. 

A handprint. 

His face flares hot, his eyes burn, and Azula laughs. 

It’s cracked, desperate, bordering on a sob, and Zuko _knows_ , with more certainty than he’s ever known anything in his whole life, that his sister is broken. 

“The prodigal son!” Azula crows as she stands up unsteadily, and waves off the Fire Sages, who are looking between Zuko and Azula with increasing confusion. “You’ve returned, yet again, from the dead. Like a stubborn fly-roach, I suppose.”

“Azula.” Zuko’s voice breaks, he hears it, and he hears Katara gasp behind him, and _begs_ that she’ll stay hidden. “You don’t have to. You don’t.” 

  
“Don’t what?” Azula stumbles down the steps, and as she moves towards him, she only becomes more unnerving. A mosaic of broken pieces, the fragile, cracked edges all too obvious, the second you draw close enough to see. “Don’t ascend, Zu-zu? Don’t finally reap what I’ve sown over years of staying loyal to Father, doing all that he asked, while you were-”  
  
“While I was recovering from being killed.” Zuko says sharply, and Azula’s dull golden eyes widen slightly, before her face falls into stone again. “After Ozai laid his hand on me, and set me on fire. Azula,” He says, one hand coming to rest around his neck. “ _What did he do to you?_ ” 

Azula stops, swaying slightly, and her hand raises to her face, touching her eye, before she shakes herself and starts towards him again, hands glowing a slight red. 

  
“A lesson.” She snarls. “One that I needed to be taught, but only once. You, on the other hand- you keep coming back for more. You _just_ can’t stay away, can you, Zu-zu?” 

“He’s not a father, Azula, he’s barely a person- he shouldn’t have done that to you- why are you _still_ following his orders?” 

  
“I made a mistake.” She says, and flames erupt on her hands. “Trust me, it won’t happen again. Now, I’m sorry to interrupt your lovely little soliloquy, but I’m afraid that if you came for the throne, you won’t be getting it. Not today, not ever.” 

“I _am_ here for the throne, and I’m going to take it.” Zuko says. Azula advances closer and closer, her fire growing and growing. “Azula, if you just stand down- you don’t have to do this!” 

“Oh, I don’t?” She shrieks, and laughs again, the sharp sounding cutting through the heavy, tepid air like a knife leaving Mai’s fingers. “I am the heir, little Zu-zu, or have you forgotten? That you died, and the crown fell to my head? That I was made, _molded,_ for this purpose, and this alone? That I, alone, have the _divine right-_ ” 

The clouds part, and the dark cuts away so swiftly that Zuko is blinded by the bright, golden, galvanizing light that descends upon him, for just a moment, hitting his eyes, his skin, his hair- 

And then it’s gone, as quickly as it came. 

He blinks rapidly and when he gains back his vision, Azula is staring at him, mouth open, having fallen back. Somewhere behind him, Katara is biting back a sob. Flames are called to his hand so easily, and flare so high, Zuko immediately drops his hands down and forces the fire out. 

“You don’t have to.” Zuko tries one last time, because Azula is scrambling to her feet, and the blue flames dancing on her hands look absolute. 

“But don’t we?” Azula whispers. “Agni Kai, brother of mine. For the throne.” 

Zuko shuts his eyes tight. Thinks of Katara, who he knows is creeping out behind him, one hand ready on her water skin. Sokka, alone in a foreign country, trying to take down an entire fleet of military vehicles. Hakoda, in a prison somewhere, Bato with him. Kanna, at home, safe, hopefully. Iroh, in Ba Sing Se. Lu Ten, settled next to him on the bank of a river. 

Mom, eyes as wide as Azula’s, hair as dark, one cold hand reaching out to him, becoming warm, and then hot, whispering, _“My little prince. My sweet light-child.”_

“Alright.” 

He opens his eyes, stands straight up, and calls heat to his hands. It gathers in fireballs in his palms, and Azula throws her head back and laughs. 

_“Zuko, no!”_ Katara yells, but Zuko doesn’t turn back. _Stay still, stay safe,_ he prays. 

  
“Well, that was easier than I expected!” She yells, as blue fire streaks by him. “I thought you’d be harder to goad into a fight, brother!” 

Zuko doesn’t respond; he’s far too busy directing his sister’s flames far away from Katara, shielding his face from the wave of heat that descends upon him. He charges forward, whipping fire towards her, and it singes the very top of her top-knot. Azula watches in disbelief as her hair falls from its hold, ends still smouldering. And then, with a hoarse, incoherent yell, she charges forward, fire on her hands, fire at her feet, fire in her eyes. 

This is a deadly dance, but it is one Zuko has done many times before. He knows the steps. He knows the rhythm. Azula is deadly precise, accurate in her footwork, her hand movement, to the point of drawing blood. Zuko is powerful, blocky, not nearly as fluid and languid as his sister, and he feels the sheer force of heat on his face. 

But she’s toeing a thin, utterly exact line in this danse macabre, and she’s about to fall. 

She blasts past him, a line of fire shooting behind her. Zuko turns with her. Zuko aims, and Zuko shoots. 

A thin heated flame bursts from his palm, and Azula, still slowing down from her blast, doesn’t lift her hand quick enough to dissipate the fire. It lands somewhere high on her face- Zuko can’t see where, it’s too bright, too smokey- but Azula doubles over, a scream erupting from her throat. 

Zuko lowers his hands. 

Azula doesn’t rise. 

She drops to her knees and keels over. She’s making choked, animalistic sounds, and it takes a second for Zuko to realize that it’s a sob- a keening, devastated wail. 

“Azula.” He says. 

She weeps and she presses her forehead to the stone. She’s mumbling something between the gasping sobs, but he can’t understand what she’s saying. Zuko extinguishes his flames, and he drops to his knees in front of his sister. 

  
“Azula.” He says again, and lays a careful hand on her shaking shoulder. She doesn’t throw him off, doesn’t try to burn him, but she does flinch. She’s limp in his hands as he gently pulls her off the ground.

Her face is utterly filthy, her eyes rimmed a bright, bloody red, and a shiny welt is already developing on her cheekbone. She, with great effort, it seems, moves her eyes to meet Zuko’s. 

“Do it.” She says harshly, and her sob catches in her throat. 

“Do what?” Zuko asks, and Azula digs her nails into his bare forearm. 

“Kill me. Just do it.” 

“Azula, I’m not- I won’t kill you.” Zuko says, and the sound that leaves her mouth makes him shudder.

“But you have to,” she wails. “I failed, I failed- you have to kill me, or Father will.” 

“ _No.”_ Zuko says fiercely, as Azula’s eyes roll back, and she heaves a shaking breath. “I won’t let him, I won’t let him hurt you again, Uncle won’t-” 

“Uncle hates me!” Azula gasps. Her nails are starting to draw blood, her head is tipping back in his arms. “Uncle hates me, Mom hated me, D- Dad hates me! You hate me too, just- just kill me Zuko, just do it, just- just-” 

“No,” Zuko says. “I won’t.” 

“You hate me!” She sobs. “You should hate me. You- you should hate me. You _should-_ ” 

Azula breaks into sobs, her body limp in his arms, her head back towards the ground, and Zuko bows his head, and he holds her as close as she’ll allow. 

Katara silently comes to sit beside him, one hand on his shoulder, and Zuko jerks his head up to meet his sister’s eyes. She nods slightly, her hand tightening, and Zuko adjusts Azula’s head so it rests in the crook of his arm. 

  
“I don’t hate you,” He whispers as she cries. “You’re my sister. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.” 

Somewhere, far away from this courtyard, cutting through the thick darkness they’re swathed in, a blue beam of bright, blinding light overtakes red, and then ceases altogether. 

* * *

Azula passes out after an incalculable amount of time. All Zuko knows is that her harsh, desperate cries have stopped feeling as though they’re stabbing him through the ribs with every sharp intake of breath, and that the sky has darkened around them. 

Her sobs cut off suddenly, and Zuko jerks his head up to find Katara withdrawing a small amount of water from Azula’s forehead. 

  
“Katara-?” 

“She’s exhausted, Zuko,” Katara says quietly, replacing the top of her water skin. “I just helped her relax.” 

Azula’s breathing evens out, the deep lines between her eyes smoothing out, and she suddenly looks several years younger. 

“Besides, I think you need to, uh, talk to them.” Katara nods at the Fire Sages, who are hovering by the dais, clearly utterly uncomfortable and confused. 

“I guess.” Zuko admits. He carefully moves Azula out of his lap, and gets up, hoping he looks prince-like (whatever that means) as he strides up to the Fire Sages.

He feels as exhausted as Azula looks, as though his bones have been replaced with heavy rock, his blood with thick sludge, but as he approaches them, it’s as though his head lifts, his back straightens, of their own accord, and when he speaks, he’s not sure he's the one articulating the sounds. 

“By all laws, natural and codified, of this nation and the land and blood that came before it, I am the rightful heir to the Dragon Throne, and I am here to claim my right.” 

* * *

The sages agree rather quickly that Zuko _is_ the heir to the Throne, and in a ceremony that feels rather anticlimactic, with only his sisters for witness, kneeling on the cold stone of the dais, he is bequeathed the title of Fire Lord. 

But with his quick ascension back into court comes the reminder that court is not safe, not for those at the top. Zuko hurriedly dismisses the Sages and drags his sisters inside the palace. 

It’s not...as suffocating as he remembers it. Sure, the walls are coated with a deep blood-red, the floors an obsidian black, but Zuko distinctly remembers being utterly dwarfed by the large, imposing portraits that line the walls, the fire that seemed to jump out as you jumped past, and now it all seems-

Smaller, somehow. 

Azula lolls against his shoulder as he hurries them through the hallway. 

  
“D’you- do you know where you’re going?” Katara asks as he leads them down yet another abandoned hallway. 

“I think?” Zuko says. “I- I haven’t been here in years, Katara, I don’t-” 

“Who goes there?” A deep, demanding voice booms from behind them, and Zuko feels his throat close. Katara immediately has water on her hands, whirling around. Zuko turns slower, makes sure Azula is safe. It’s a singular guard, faceplate on, hand gripping his spear. 

“Stay back!” Katara threatens, voice hard. 

“Identify yourself!” The guard orders, and Zuko swallows thickly. 

“My name is Zuko.” He says. “Lord of the Fire Nation.” 

The guard’s shoulders draw up. After a tense moment, where Zuko prepares himself to drop his sister and call flames to his hands, the guard loosens his grip on his spear and removes his faceplate with shaking hands. He drops into a dogeza, forehead touching the ground, and Zuko would feel incredibly uncomfortable if there was room in his head for any other emotions other than sheer exhaustion.

“Please, rise.” He says, and the guard immediately scrambles up, keeping his gaze low. 

“Sir, we never thought the day would come-” 

“Do you- do you know where Captain Izumi is?” Zuko interrupts him, because his arms are starting to shake, and Katara is going pale next to him, and he’s not sure how long he can go like this, and he doesn’t know if he can trust this man, but Izumi saved them, and- 

“Captain-” The man looks down. His face is somewhat familiar. Zuko wonders vaguely how long he’s been a guard. “Captain Izumi unfortunately passed away.” 

“What?” Zuko demands. “No, no, I saw her, not two months ago, on the day of the Black Sun-” 

“My Lord, Captain Izumi was killed on the Day of the Black Sun.” 

Zuko stares at the man, feeling his chest constrict yet again. Izumi’s dead. On the Day of the Black Sun. For him. 

“But, if it was assistance you require,” The Guard lifts his chin. “Then please, be assured, Captain Izumi and I fought under the same banner.” 

Zuko’s never been good at gauging if someone is lying to him. The man’s gaze is determined, but soft, somehow. He decides to think about Captain Izumi later.

  
“Alright.” Zuko relents, if only because he knows that Katara could definitely take him, if needed. “I, uh, I just need somewhere to rest-” 

“Your bedroom is just down the hall,” The guard’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

Zuko blinked. “My bedroom is still here?” 

“Prince Iroh never cared to have it cleared out.” The guard says, and his eyes flicker down to Azula. “Forgive me, but does the princess require medical attention?” 

“I can handle it,’ Katara cuts in sharply. “We don’t need any help.” 

“I understand, I apologize.” The guard bows his head. “I’ll take you to the room.” 

The guard leads them down dark, winding hallways and stops outside a pair of dark, wooden double doors. 

“Where is everyone?” Katara whispers as the guard swings open the doors, and Zuko follows him in. 

“Fled, mostly.” The guard answers. “It, ah, has been tumultuous. Many had family issues come up and resigned their positions.” 

“Are you the only guard?” Zuko asks as he lays Azula down on the bed. 

“Hardly,” The guard snorts. “But I am the only one still in the palace, at the moment.” 

“How can I know-” Zuko clears his throat. Azula’s head lolls over onto the pillows. “How can I know I can trust you?” 

The guard’s eyes widen in surprise, and Zuko feels a heated rush of embarrassment. Even while he was still in the Fire Nation, he had never been good at Court speak. Azula used to terrorize him relentlessly over his inability to be subtle in anything, or sense subtleties in speech. Katara, thank Agni, seems to have no patience for this, and unscrews her waterskin threateningly. 

  
“Answer him.” She demands, water following her movement out. 

“I told you, my Lord.” The guard says, hands out in front of him placatingly. “I followed Captain Izumi in all things. We’ve- we’ve heard rumours of your movements across the Earth Kingdom, even up to the Northern Water Tribe. We’ve heard what you’ve done. What you want to do.” The guard raises his eyes to meet Zuko’s. “I am loyal to you, Fire Lord Zuko, and you, only. No harm will come to you while I protect you.” 

Katara’s shoulders slump down, and she turns to give Zuko a weary, resigned look. 

  
“Okay.” Zuko says. “Okay. Thank you. What- what’s your name?” 

“Kaito, my Lord.” The guard bows again. “I’ll be right outside, if you need anything.” 

Kaito leaves, shutting the door behind him. Zuko immediately bounds off the bed to turn the lock, and Katara shoves his dresser up against the door after him. No footsteps echo down the hall, and they hear Kaito clear his throat and a small _thump_ , like the butt of a spear hitting the floor. 

Katara slides down the wall next to the door, her head in her hands. Her shoulders are trembling, and Zuko immediately kneels down, lifts her head up- but she’s not crying. She’s shaking with laughter, one hand clamped tight over her mouth. 

“Katara?” 

“My Lord,” Katara gasps out, as tears gather in the corner of her eyes. Her muffled laughter is sharp, bordering on hysterical, and Zuko turns to shoot a glance at Azula’s prone form on the bed, but she hasn’t moved. “He called you _my Lord_.” 

“Yeah,” Zuko says, and laughter bubbles up his throat and out of his mouth before he can stop it. “He did, didn’t he?” 

“We did it.” Katara says. “We did it. You’re Fire Lord. You rule the Fire Nation.” 

Katara lets out a sharp peal of laughter that's nearly a sob, and Zuko can feel tears stinging at his dry eye. 

“Yeah,” He says hoarsely, and sits against the wall, taking his sister’s hand in his. “I am. The war’s over. We did it.” 

“What now?” Katara asks him, the giggling dying down, wiping at her eyes. 

“I don’t even know.” Zuko shakes his head. “Agni, Katara. I have _no_ idea what to do, now.” 

“I guess,” Katara looks at him, wrinkles her nose up. “I guess we get started, huh?” 

* * *

When Hakoda is released from prison by order of the Fire Lord, he’s entirely convinced that the man has somehow figured out that he was the one that raised his son, and that he wants to kill Hakoda with his own hands, instead of leaving him for the mass pyre. 

So he holds Bato as tight as he can, grips Tulok’s forearm, knocks his forehead against Nanuk’s, before he stands up, dusts off his tunic, and faces the nameless guard that’s come to collect him from his cell. 

  
“I’m ready.” He tells him. “Take me to Fire Lord Ozai.” 

“Ozai?” The guard frowns. “You misunderstand me. Fire Lord Zuko released you. All of you.” 

Hakoda stiffens and hears a sharp intake of breath behind him. 

“Fire Lord- Fire Lord Zuko?” Hakoda asks slowly, not trusting his ears. 

“Yes,” The guard confirms. “Fire Lord Zuko requested that everyone taken prisoner during the Day of the Black Sun be released immediately and brought to the palace.” 

Hakoda stares at the guard, and wonders if he’s dreaming, somehow, before Bato comes to stand beside him, one hand on his shoulder. 

“He did it, Koda. They did it.” He whispers, and Hakoda chokes out a disbelieving laugh. 

“And what of the war?” He asks the guard. 

“I- I don’t know much, I’m new,” The guard admits. “But I’ve heard that Fire Lord Zuko ordered the immediate halt of all Fire Nation troop movements, and commanded them to return home as soon as possible.” 

“Tui and La.” Hakoda murmurs, hands coming up to cover his eyes. “He did it.”  
  


* * *

It takes a day’s travel to reach the palace, and night has fallen, with the moon high in the sky, by the time Hakoda reaches the gates. The guards allow the men through without a fight, and Hakoda can’t help but wonder when this illusion will shatter and someone will force him to the ground with a spear to his throat. 

It doesn’t happen. 

An older man with a top-knot banded in gold, dressed in unassuming black and red robes meets Hakoda in a courtyard. 

He bows as they approach, and Hakoda sends Bato a confused look, but Bato only shakes his head. 

“Chief Hakoda,” the man says. “You raised my nephew as your own.” 

Hakoda stops. Even in the pale light the moon casts, the man’s eyes glint a familiar, warm, molten gold. A color Hakoda hasn’t seen in months. A color Hakoda is far used to only seeing in one eye, the other covered in a dull, white-gold sheen. 

“Iroh.” He says, and the man smiles, his eyes watery. 

“Yes. I am Iroh. There is absolutely no way for me to repay you for the kindness you showed my nephew, but please understand that I am forever in your debt.” 

Hakoda shakes his head, finds that his voice is caught in his throat. 

“I didn’t raise Zuko as my own.” He says hoarsely, and Iroh’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“My nephew said that-” 

“Zuko _is_ my own.” Hakoda interrupts. “He’s my son, Iroh.” 

Iroh’s expression softens. 

“Of course. You must be anxious to see him.” Iroh beckons them through the door and into a dark, stone landing lit up with torches.

“Are the rest of the children alright?” Hakoda asks, apprehensive, as Iroh leads them down a long hallway. 

“They are,” Iroh confirms. “They all are. Sokka suffered a broken ankle during the comet, but Master Katara has been healing it regularly. They’re all exhausted, but they’re safe.” 

Hakoda feels something decompress in his chest as Iroh stops outside a double door. 

“They’ve all been sleeping in the same room,” Iroh explains. “We tried to get them into separate rooms- if only so that the Avatar would finally get some sleep- but they adamantly refused. Now, as for the rest of you men, I’m sure you’re tired. The guest quarters are-” 

Iroh begins to explain that all released prisoners and other assorted members of the resistance that have shown up at the palace are being housed in the long unused ambassadorial quarters, and Hakoda only barely hears him, eyes fixed on the dark wood of the door. 

A strong hand squeezes his shoulder, and Hakoda wrenches his gaze away to find Bato standing next to him, expression a little too understanding. Hakoda wrinkles his nose at his second. 

“You look like you’re trying to read my mind.” He says.

Bato snorts softly. “I don’t need to. I know what you’re thinking, Koda.” 

“No, you don’t-”  
“Go see the kids.” Bato says, and shoves him towards the door. “I’ll be right here.” 

Hakoda stares at Bato for a second, at the half-healed scar on his high cheekbone, the dark blue of his eyes, then sighs, shuts his eyes, and forces himself to open the door. 

The room is dark, lit only by the spare moonbeam that falls across the floor. Mattresses and blankets and pillows are strewn about the ground, and the children are strewn about the mattresses, sound asleep. 

Hakoda catches sight of Sokka, splayed out with one arm thrown over a girl with cropped auburn hair, moonlight sharpening his features, a bandage wrapped around his leg, and feels his breath catch in his throat. Katara is on his other side, the Avatar asleep at her side, hair loose over her face. Between Sokka and Katara, Zuko lays curled up, a blanket covering a third of his face. His hair is longer. Beaded braids are strewn haphazardly over the portion of his scar that’s visible, and Toph is tight against his side. 

They’re safe. They’re all safe, and whole, and the war is over. The war is over, because his children ended it. 

An emotion too large, too expansive, too intense, for Hakoda to be able to identify, swells warm in his chest. He crosses the room with silent steps and kneels next to his kids, reaching to adjust Katara’s blanket.

Zuko stirs as he does, eye blinking open and heavy with exhaustion. He looks up at Hakoda uncomprehendingly. 

“Hey,” Hakoda says softly, moving his son’s hair out of his eye. A small, sleepy smile comes across Zuko’s face. 

“Hi, Dad.” He mumbles, eyes already half-closing again. Hakoda stills, his hand against Zuko’s forehead, heart in his throat, then he swallows thickly and smiles, tears stinging his eyes. 

“You guys did so well.” Hakoda whispers to him. “I am so, so proud of you.” 

“ ‘M happy to see you,” Zuko sighs, nestling further into his blankets. “Tired.” 

“Go back to sleep, Zuko. I’m not leaving.” 

Zuko smiles again, before his eyes slide shut and his breathing evens out. 

Hakoda sits back on his heels and shoves his hands into his eyes. When he gets control of himself, he looks over his children, and feels a smile tug at his weary face without his permission.

Tomorrow, Sokka will wake first, and when he sees Hakoda, asleep against the wall, he’ll shoot up, hoarsely yelling _“Dad!”,_ and throw himself at him. 

Tomorrow, Iroh will explain the responsibilities that Zuko’s taken upon himself, how he’s been working day and night since the comet to get all prisoners of war released, including friends from his childhood, and to get all troops back home from abroad, and that Zuko’s coronation is next week.

Tomorrow, Katara will pull him aside with a serious look on her round face, and explain that Zuko’s already had assasination attempts, and that Hakoda needs to be careful, and then, in the same breath, explain that she’s leaving in a few weeks with the Avatar and Toph to help set up refugee camps in the Earth Kingdom, and the tone in her voice will imply that she’s not asking for permission. 

Tomorrow, Zuko will appear around noon in his best blue tunic and red robes crossing it, hair pulled into a top-knot, a crown encircling it, and he’ll give Hakoda a nervous smile as he takes him to meet his sister, who’s being kept in a suite in the palace. The girl will sneer at Hakoda, throw barbs, but the minute Hakoda leaves, Hakoda will hear Zuko’s gentle murmuring, the girl’s sobs, through the door. 

Tomorrow, the Avatar will wearily explain to Hakoda that there have already been uprisings, and that many generals are not accepting of Zuko’s ascension to the throne. 

Tomorrow, Hakoda will understand the vastness of the work that is yet to be done to repair the fractures this war has dealt to the world, the depths of the chasms that need to be crossed to fix what the Fire Nation has done. 

But, today, he is sitting with his children- his wonderful, fearless, compassionate children- who ended a war that Hakoda, nor his father, nor his father’s father, could not. And they are safe, and they are whole, and Hakoda- 

Hakoda is at peace. 


	14. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im saving all my teary notes for the end. im not crying. seriously im just allergic to endings. GO AWAY IM NOT CRYING-

* * *

On an island, at the very top of the oldest volcano, one-hundred years past the time of Sozin, a young man stood before his countrymen. 

The morning was overcast, cloudy, but as the young prince stepped out onto the dais, in front of his people, his family, his friends, the clouds broke and the sun shone bright and golden. 

And the Prince bowed his head, deaf to the cheers. 

And the Prince did not hold himself in the same regard his predecessors did. 

And the Prince knelt on the stone, silent. 

And the Prince, still swathed in the golden light he had been granted at birth, received the Flame on his head. 

“Hail, Fire Lord Zuko of the Fire Nation!” 

And the Fire Lord rose.

* * *

“Interesting choice, brother.” Azula crosses her arms. Zuko looks at her in his mirror as he layers his blue tunic with his formal outer robes. 

“They’re my clothes.” Zuko says simply. The tailor who is adjusting his collar raises her eyebrows, but says nothing. 

“They’re not exactly befitting of the Fire Lord. Are you _asking_ the court to not take you seriously?” Azula drawls. She’s doing well today, judging by the lack of scorch marks on her simple robes, the fact that her hair is out of her face and brushed, and that she’s willingly sitting on his couch and watching him get dressed for his coronation banquet.

“Well, I _am_ the Fire Lord, so everything I do is befitting of the Fire Lord, isn’t it?” Zuko finishes the last braid on the side of his head and begins to pull his hair up into a top knot. 

Azula is surprised at this, if her expression is anything to go by. She quickly schools her face back into uninterested boredom, picking at the stitching on her robes. 

“Interesting, Zu-zu,” she says. “You would have blown up at me if I said that to you when we were children.” 

“I’ve changed.” Zuko wraps the ribbon around his somewhat-lopsided top-knot. Even after a month of practice, he still struggles. “And so have you.” 

“Have I?” Azula raises her eyebrows. “How can you be so sure? Perhaps I’ll snap-” she brings her fingers together with a sharp sound and allows a blue flame to appear on the tips. “Kill you tonight, and usurp the throne.” 

  
Zuko snorts a half-laugh and waves his hand to extinguish her flame before she sets fire to the couch. “Do your worst, Azula.” 

* * *

The banquet is massive and the crowd stifling. Sokka sticks close to his side, eying the nobles and generals that are mingling throughout the hall, trying their best to get five seconds with the new Fire Lord, with varying levels of suspicions. Zuko rolls his eyes at his brother but doesn’t protest. 

Some of the generals have less than loyal expressions on their faces when they pledge their undying loyalty to him. 

Iroh keeps an eye on them from a few feet away, clearly trying to give Zuko space, but unwilling to go too far. They spy him talking to Hakoda, waving his hands energetically, and Zuko pales, wondering what embarrassing childhood stories Iroh is regaling his father with.

The banquet dies down sometime after midnight, after Sokka has finally wandered off with Suki and Toph to find a moment of solitude. Zuko manages to slip out a side-door with a grateful look at Kaito, who only inclines his head slightly in response. He walks the darkened halls, loosening the high collar of his robes. 

A side-door is ajar, familiar voices echoing from within. Zuko pauses, hand on the door. 

He knows this room. 

He knows what happened in this room. 

His scar flares hot, but Zuko shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens the door. 

Katara and Aang are sitting cross-legged on the floor of the Agni Kai chambers, passing around a small ball of water Katara seems to have pulled from the air. 

“Zuko!” Aang’s face brightens as he spots him. “I thought you’d still be at the party. What are you doing here?” 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Zuko tries to stop his voice from shaking, and it works. Mostly. 

Katara’s expression immediately changes. She stands up and waves her hand to disperse the water into mist. “Is something wrong? We were just looking for someplace quiet to talk-” 

“This is, uh.” Zuko rolls his eyes up at the ceiling, if only to not have to see his sister’s face when he tells her. The mural of Agni is still tiled there, all bright reds and golds. Strange. It looks nothing like her. “This is the Agni Kai arena.” 

The room is silent for a moment. Zuko stares into the bright-yellow of Agni’s eyes. There’s a hand on his shoulder, and Zuko forces himself to look down to find Aang standing next to him, expression soft, but not pitying. Never pitying. It’s bearable, somehow. 

“Let’s go to the gardens.” He suggests. “C’mon, I bet it’s nice out.” 

Zuko nods, a lump in his throat, and they walk out of the chambers with no further preamble. Katara starts discussing post-war policies she wants to bring up in the next meeting they’re all forced to attend, and Aang starts agreeing with her, adding his own additions with emphatic enthusiasm, and Zuko says nothing, content to listen to their plans for the future. 

* * *

The gardens would be pitch-black, if not for how bright Yue is shining down on them, casting everything in a soft pale-blue. 

Suki, Toph, and Sokka are already out here, sitting in the grass. Sokka’s got his head in Suki’s lap, and Toph is sprawled out next to them, plucking cherries from a bowl and spitting the seeds as far as she can. 

“Sparky!” Toph crows. “Was wondering when you were gonna show up!” 

“He’s _Fire Lord_ Sparky, now, Toph,” Aang corrects, face solemn. “He has important Fire Lord things to do.” 

“Oh yes,” Toph agrees gravely. “Very important Fire Lord duties. Like looking like a stuck-up ass.” 

_“I don’t look like a-”_ Zuko splutters indignantly, and then stops. “Wait.” 

Toph cackles and throws a cherry pit at him. “You’re stupid.” 

“So you’ve told me. Many, many times.” He sits down next to her. 

Aang and Katara sit too, and for a while, there’s a companionable silence.

  
Soft, far-away music floats over the walls of the courtyard. The small, end-of-summer, breeze that pushes the tree-branches is warm, and there’s nearly a perfect reflection of Yue’s light in the pond. Zuko begins to unravel his hair from its holding-place. 

Sokka breaks the silence, lifting his head out of Suki’s lap to tilt his head up at Yue. “What’s next?” 

Zuko finishes pulling down his top-knot. He stares at the crown in his hands. There’s something heavy in his stomach, like apprehension, but somehow, it doesn’t seem an unbearable weight. “What’s next?”

Sokka nods. “What do we do, now?” 

“We fix it.” Aang says. He’s sitting ramrod straight, legs crossed and bright robes still vibrant in the dark. His expression is as old as the trees he’s sitting beneath, as though he holds as much wisdom and strength and history in his twelve-year-old body as they do. 

“There’s so much to fix.” Katara says. “The Earth Kingdom needs help, the tribe is nowhere _near_ recovered, we don’t even know how they’re doing in the North-”

“That doesn’t mean it can’t be done, Katara.” Suki counters. “We have to start somewhere, don’t we?” 

“But where do we start?” She wrings her hands, and Aang reaches over to envelop hers within his own. “With the refugees seeking shelter? Do we rebuild Ba Sing Se? Are the adults even going to listen to us?” 

“Listen, we ended the war on our own. If the adults don’t listen to us, we’ll rebuild it on our own, too.” Toph says, crossing her arms and tilting her chin up. 

“Big words from someone who said, and I quote ‘Fuck these meetings, fuck everyone, I’m going to go tear up the palace’, three days ago.” Zuko teases, if only to break the tension, and Toph bristles. 

“Everyone’s stupid!” Toph throws her hands up. “I still want to help them, though!” 

“Everyone _is_ stupid.” Sokka sighs. “So, Zuko? What are we doing? What do we do now?” 

Zuko is quiet for a moment. It’s hard, these days. He spent so long only looking twenty-four hours ahead, focused on survival, making sure his family was safe, that looking ahead to weeks, and months, and _years-_ feels almost as unnatural as not slipping on his seal-skin boots and gearing up for a hunt with Sokka. 

“Aang’s right,” he says finally, meeting the Avatar’s look. “We’re going to fix it. No matter how long it takes.” 

* * *

When Zuko closes his eyes one night, after a long, long day of re-learning court etiquette and staring at meeting documents until his eyes burn, and opens them to a clear blue sky and not a sun in sight, for the first time, he isn’t panicked by it. 

“Hello, child.” 

The woman seems smaller than he remembers, not as luminescent. She sits at the edge of the bank, dipping her hand in the clear water, her white robes splayed out around her. Zuko bows his head low and stares at the green grass until he hears her say,

“Rise.” 

So he does. He doesn’t require any prompting; he knows how this goes. He sits next to her on the bank and glances at the water. Faces, shapes, indistinct colors, appear in the ripples and disappear just as quickly. 

“Are you going to tell me of my fate?” Zuko asks.

The woman laughs. It doesn’t sound much like Mom’s laugh did, and now that Zuko can see her face clearly- his consciousness not muddled by the pain of sickness, injury, death- she doesn’t look much like her, either. 

“To think that you still believe that fate is immutable,” She chuckles. Her hand passes through Zuko’s loose hair, warm and light. 

“Is it not?” Zuko blinks up at her. “Is that not why you saved me? Why I’m here, now?” 

“Rivers flow in one direction. That does not mean they’re not subject to diversion, overflow, drought.” She brings her golden gaze down upon him. “You did well, light-child. But do you think that your fate has concluded, somehow?” 

Zuko is silent for a moment. Aang and Katara had taken off to the Earth Kingdom a few days ago to help assist in the refugee camps, Toph in tow to be dropped off at home for a brief visit. Suki had reunited with her girls, and was making preparations to return to Kyoshi Island, with promises to visit often and to try to convince the Governor to open up trade. Sokka is still here, along with the men of the Tribe, slowly but surely helping to create policy and reparations that were fair and equitable in a nation that had refused to see anyone outside of it as worthy of such in a century. 

  
Zuko is-

Zuko is tired, a lot. There are many, many people who do not want to see him on the throne, and have already tried to depose him. But Azula is getting better, and Mai and Ty Lee had come to visit just yesterday, and Ty Lee had nearly tackled Zuko in a tight hug. Uncle is just down the street, having opened a new tea shop, as he claimed he was too old for politics, but he still gives Zuko advice on everything from crops in the south to diplomacy anytime he asks for it. 

It is hard work, but it is necessary work. And it is good work. 

“Well, I did what you asked. I helped restore balance to the world, did I not?” 

“Have you?” The woman tilts her head. “Your work is just beginning, child.” 

Zuko nods slowly. He brings his hand down to the water and submerges it, watches the colors run over his skin. 

“Alright.” He says. “Alright. I’m ready for it.” 

* * *

  
  


The Jasmine Dragon is hardly a three minutes’ walk from the main gate of the palace, and yet, it takes Zuko the better part of the afternoon to convince Captain Kaito to allow him to go without a battalion of guards, so long as he promises to stick close to Suki, who is dressed in full Kyoshi Warrior regalia.

“I’ve got Azula!” He gestures at his little sister, who is filing her long, red nails with a bored expression on her face. “She’s practically a human weapon!” 

“He’s right,” she agrees, extending her nails out to study them. 

“Alright.” Kaito relents. “If you’re not back by sunset-” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sokka waves the guard off and hauls Zuko off the couch. “Cmon, I gotta kick your uncle’s ass in Pai Sho.” 

“You can try.” Azula languidly. “He’s a rather fierce opponent.” 

“Well, he hasn’t met me.” Sokka puffs his chest out, and Zuko bites back a fond grin. 

His brother has shot up nearly five inches in the twelve months they’ve been in the Fire Nation and looks more like Hakoda than he ever had before. The rest of the tribe has returned home to help with rebuilding, but Sokka stuck around. “Mostly to keep the knuckle-head from getting murdered,” He had explained to Hakoda and Bato, grinning wickedly. “We all know how accident-prone he is.” 

Zuko had acted outraged at the time, but was incredibly grateful to have his brother at his side as he attempted to navigate the absolute minefield that was a post-war government. 

Besides, Zuko thought absently, months ago at midnight as he had signed the paper officially designating Sokka as the Southern Water Tribe ambassador to the Fire Nation, the title fit him well. 

He had glanced out the window at the full moon, and wondered if Yue would have thought so, too. 

Sokka would be returning home soon. But for now, for this one afternoon, despite missing the others, he still had his brother at his side, one of his sisters at his other side, and his friend with him, and he was determined to enjoy it. 

It’s late afternoon; the sun has dipped below the temple, reflecting golden and bright on the roof. Sokka and Suki are walking ahead, hands linked, arguing animatedly about something Zuko wouldn’t have been able to suss out if he tried, and are through the door of the Jasmine Dragon before Zuko and Azula have even crossed the busy market street. 

“C’mon!” Sokka yells, waving at them. “You’re so slow!” 

“We’re coming!” Zuko yells back, and turns to tell Azula to hurry up, but finds his sister stopped, face stone and golden eyes fixed on the sign of the tea shop. 

“Azula.” Zuko says. 

She shakes her head. “I haven’t… I haven’t spoken to him.” 

Zuko blinks in surprise. Uncle Iroh has been to the palace many, many times, and each time, had told Zuko that he was stopping in to see Azula before he left. “But, he-”

“I never let him.” She tightens her hands into fists. There is a bright spark behind her eyes that reminds Zuko distantly that Azula could set this entire market ablaze if she chose to. That destruction comes as naturally to his sister as breathing. But she hasn’t destroyed. She hasn’t, not once. 

“He doesn’t hate you.” Zuko says softly. 

“You don’t know that.” Azula snaps. “A crown on your head does not immediately bestow the wisdom of a king, Zu-zu.” 

Zuko has to stifle a laugh. Did their mother ever know about Azula’s proclivity towards dramatics? 

“It’s not about wisdom, Azula.” Zuko says, and begins walking towards the shop. 

Azula glares daggers at him, but follows him across the street. 

“I know he doesn’t hate you.” Zuko opens the door to the shop. “Because even when you’re angry with someone you love, you still love them. And he loves you.” 

Azula opens her mouth to argue back, but stops, eyes fixed on something in the tea shop. Her expression immediately morphs into something Zuko doesn’t recognize, and she steps through the doorway. Zuko follows, and finds Uncle behind the counter, serving Suki and Sokka mooncakes, and Sokka setting up a Pai Sho board. Uncle stills as they enter and puts down the teapot, a gentle smile spreading across my niece. 

“My niece, my nephew,” He says, opening his arms wide. “Welcome home.” 

* * *

_“I have hated words, and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right.”_

Marcus Zusak, _The Book Thief_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. 
> 
> Uh, first and foremost, I want to thank my beta, @agentcalliope. Casey made all of this possible, from constantly encouraging me, to beta-reading 96k worth of words with a clear and steady eye, to cursing me out, when needed. Seriously, Casey, I couldn't have done this without you. 
> 
> Secondly, thank all of you. Everyone who read, commented, bookmarked, sent me asks on tumblr, drew beautiful art for this work. You made five months worth of work worth it, and I can't thank you enough. This has been a rollercoaster of a ride, but I'm glad we experienced it together. 
> 
> Until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be trying to get chapters up at least once a week, and I generally write notes about my works on my tumblr @ ta1k-less, so feel free to yell at me there :)


End file.
